


Unexpected

by murgamurg



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Frenemies, Low key and fluffy, Multi, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4178928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murgamurg/pseuds/murgamurg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, unexpected things can happen in life. Sanji tries to roll with it the best he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I've had a lot of fucking bullshit fly up in my face IRL and of course when I need something to distract myself I just vomit Zosan. I'm just actually really happy to have something I'm kind of satisfied with and more thought out than my other stuff. This was meant to be sort of low-key and relaxing, rather than some of the more high stress and angst fics in the fandom, but not really overly fluffy. I hope it comes off that way. Thanks and enjoy the read.

 Sanji opened his dorm door and came face to face with a wide grinning boy in a straw hat.

  
"Sanji! Come get drinks with us! Shishishi!" The boy’s hands were on his hips, and the grin looked to split his face in two.  
  
Luffy was a second semester freshman in Sanji's marketing class. He always sat in the back of the classroom, goofing off with some dumbass who dyed his hair bright fucking green and had possibly the worst fashion sense Sanji had ever seen.  Apparently Zoro, the green-haired dumbass (who the fuck has a name like Zoro, anyway?) and Luffy were best fucking friends or something, even though Zoro was obviously a few years older, and neither could ever sit still without giggling about some wonderfully mature joke. Sanji's interaction with them was mostly limited to telling them to _shut the fuck up so he could please take notes and not fail this class for the love of god._ The quiet brought on by his angry outbursts lasted a about a minute, tops.   
  
Lately, he'd been trying to sit away from them. His grade was slipping; he'd managed to miss some key points in a lecture and got a lower grade on his midterm than he would have liked. Marketing was a core class for his major, and a second semester junior didn't have much time to drop the class and take it later when he could concentrate. And fuck those guys if he didn't get his degree in business _cum laude._  
  
That was the whole reason he was doing this, anyway. He was going to start his own restaurant, and be a star chef. He wouldn't have even bothered with college in the first place, but the old man had planted the niggling idea that having a degree would make it easier, and during his waning high school years and Sanji had latched into it like a starving stray. Sure, Thousand Sunny College was reputable and close to his hometown, and sure, he was smart enough to get in and garner a respectable amount of academic scholarships. He'd worked his ass off and managed to maintain a solid 4.0 the entire time he'd been enrolled. He was going to hang that damn degree on the wall of his restaurant and be proud of himself. So he fucking hated those bastards who were so handily ruining it for him.   
  
And so his thought process brought him back to the present, and the widely grinning boy standing in front of him. Regardless of his resentment for this classmate that made his life a living hell, it was tempting. He was lonely living the life he'd carved out for himself. And _damn_ if he wasn't ridiculously jealous of the friendship that Zoro and Luffy had.   
  
Speaking of the green-haired freak, he’d been leaning against the poorly painted wall behind Luffy while Sanji contemplated the question. After a moment he pushed himself off the wall and grabbed the kid's arm, scowling. "C'mon Luffy, he doesn't want to. Usopp's gonna beat our heads in if we take any longer."  
  
"Wait!" Sanji said suddenly, coming back to himself as Luffy’s smile fell and their postures shifted to walk away. "Uh. Let me grab my cigarettes," he said quickly, and dashed back inside to grab the box of reds off the counter. He also grabbed his coat, and surreptitiously checked his hair in the mirror before emerging into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.   
  
Luffy stuck both fists in the air with a "Woo!" turning to walk down the hall and into the stairwell. Sanji fell in behind them easily, not sure if the decision he’d just made was a good one. He barely knew these guys anyway, and what he did know wasn’t very positive… but they seemed ok. Luffy, especially. Drinks couldn’t hurt anyone, could they?

He noticed the twinkle of earrings as Zoro tilted his head to sneer at him over a jacketed shoulder, flicking his dark eyes over Sanji's face. "Style your hair enough, curly brow? We're going to a bar, not a beauty contest."  
  
Sanji balked so hard he stutter stepped as they exited the dorm's exterior door. He didn't really want to piss these guys off two seconds after they extended him an invitation of friendship, but he happened to be _very sensitive_ about his eyebrows. "The fuck did you just call me, shitstain? At least I don't look like I just crawled out of a swamp, shitty moss hair and all."  
  
Zoro stopped and did a slow turn to face him. The look in his eyes was nothing short of _lethal_.  
  
Luffy hung back after they walked out the door and watched the exchange with glittering eyes. When Zoro opened his mouth to no doubt deliver his scathing retort, the kid laughed loudly and clapped Sanji on the back. "Ha, you guys are funny! You were right Zoro, Sanji's a really good guy."  
  
The tension disappeared immediately, and Sanji went from ready for murder to intensely curious. Zoro had told Luffy he was a good guy, knowing nothing about him at all, and Luffy'd agreed almost instantaneously. Sanji wouldn't be surprised if the outcome of that previous conversation was Luffy’s invitation for drinks tonight. He might feel a little bit like a huge asshole for trying to rip the guy a new one only seconds before.   
  
Zoro, however, seemed intent on looking anywhere but the blonde. He muttered a "Whatever, Luffy," and shoved his hands deep in his pockets, following the bouncing boy across the road. Said boy was waving frantically at a weathered and beaten beige Jeep Cherokee in the parking lot opposite, which appeared to have been idling for some time.  
  
"Usopp!" Luffy exclaimed brightly, opening the back door and bouncing in to sit behind the driver. "We brought a friend! Look!" Sanji slid in next to Luffy, while Zoro took shotgun.  
  
"Oh, hey," Sanji said, recognizing the long-nosed, wiry driver with mounds of curly hair pulled messily into his hat. "Weren't you in my pottery class last semester? You made some really cool stuff dude."  
  
"Yeah, hey, thanks." The guy said, seemingly sheepish about the compliment, and shook hands with the blonde. "Nice to actually meet you."  
  
"Same," Sanji said, fingering his cigarettes while Usopp pulled out of the parking lot, pausing before turning into traffic. "Mind if I smoke in here?"  
  
"Nah, just crack a window or something," he said nonchalantly, obviously more focused on driving, and Sanji immediately decided he liked Usopp's easygoing nature.  
  
"Alright," he replied, rolling the window about halfway down and lighting up, letting the nicotine soothe the nervousness of going out with new people in his stomach. It didn't help that Zoro had been glaring at him in the rear view since they got in the car, and he'd been ignoring it but was about done at this point. What the fuck was that guy's problem, anyway?   
  
"So where are we going?" He asked, and noticed that Luffy was practically vibrating in the seat next to him.   
  
"It's called Alabaster. It's the coolest place! You'll love it! And they have lots of meat!" He was bouncing up and down now, hands on the shoulders of Usopp’s seat.   
  
Sanji grimaced at the name of the club. It sounded trendy, but he hoped it wasn't actually one of those places with uncomfortable ultra-modern furniture, bright white tables, and a large collection of douchebags, or else he might vomit. His eyes flicked to Zoro as he mused that the douchebag count was already at 1 for the night, so they couldn't handle much more.

He turned back to Luffy, speaking languid through the solid stream of smoke escaping his mouth. "So... you’re saying you like meat?"  
  
"Heh," Usopp snickered from the driver's seat, alluding to the unintentional double entendre in Sanji's question. In all honesty, Sanji was wondering aloud in case he had the opportunity to cook for the guy, but Usopp’s lewd sense of humor took him a little off guard. He opened his mouth to clarify, but the frizzy haired artist moved on before he could speak.

"Hey, so do you guys know if Nami's coming?" The driver asked, changing the subject while paused at a stoplight.  
  
"Vivi's working tonight, so probably," Zoro replied gruffly, now looking out his window rather than staring at Sanji (thank god) as the car began to move forward again. _Well,_ the blonde mused, peering out his own window at the streetlights whizzing by. _Seems like the whole crew is coming out tonight._  He didn't know if that made him more or less comfortable.   
  
Sanji finished his cigarette as they pulled up to the place, getting out and crushing the butt under the Italian leather of his shoes while the rest of them exited the car. The exterior was kind of bland; part of a larger strip mall with blacked out windows. Large white text in a flowing script displayed _Alabaster_ across the reclaimed wooden door, but other than that, there were no real distinguishing features. He fiddled with the lighter in his pocket, strongly resisting the urge to chain smoke his nervousness away; he mourned his nicotine cravings and cursed whatever civic official banned smoking in bars.

His lamentations were forgotten however, he spotted an angel from heaven herself walking towards the door to the bar. She was fantastic; slim and toned legs supported a perfectly coordinated outfit, topped with tasteful makeup and gorgeous natural red hair. He quickened his pace to catch up with her, and caught her hand as she reached for the door.  
  
"My beautiful flower; please allow me," he said, holding the door open for her, bowing lowly and kissing the hand in his own lightly. She stopped and stared for a moment, stunned.  
  
That moment was all Luffy needed to get back on his game of ' _annoy the living fuck out of Sanji in particular_ ’. He slammed into Sanji's back with all the force of a truck, making him stumble forward and knock his shoulder roughly against the wooden portal, not to mention the shooting pain in his back from an injury he sustained as a kid. "Nami! Hey!" He shouted loudly beside Sanji's ear.

“Hey Luffy,” She replied calmly, rolling her eyes. “Another one?”

Sanji realized she was referring to himself. It became apparent that Luffy often picked people up in such a manner.

“Yeah! He’s great!” Luffy replied, referring to the man whose neck his arms were wrapped around all too tightly.  "This is Sanji! He's got class with me and Zoro."

Sanji smiled at her, gritting out a "Nice to meet you," but it was really nothing more than a showing of teeth.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. "Well, we'll see if you stick. Come on, Luffy, leave the poor guy alone." He frowned as Luffy extricated himself from his shoulders, his eyes following the beautiful girl inside the bar.

He turned to glare at Usopp and Zoro, who were snickering madly to his right. Usopp clapped him on the shoulder as they passed by, and Zoro whispered "Are you an idiot?" under his breath. He sighed, sulking, and followed them in.

To his relief the bar wasn’t remotely as trendy as he’d thought. It was small, just enough room for a big lacquered wood bar and some tables scattered around, most of the seating relegated to the booths that lined the walls. Exposed brick and natural wood accents gave the place a cozy and homey atmosphere.

There were a few other groups smattered about the space, about average for a weeknight this close to the college. Nami and Luffy had already wrangled one of the few tables towards the center of the restaurant as the other three joined them. Sanji narrowed his eyes as Zoro sat down next to the Nami, choosing his own seat between Usopp and Luffy. That neanderthal didn’t deserve to sit near such a beautiful goddess. 

Speaking of goddesses, another one emerged from behind the bar, floating easily up to the table. Her hair was dyed a bright blue, but it was tasteful, and daresay it looked flawless against her tanned skin. The black and pocketed apron around her waist led Sanji to believe she was their waitress. This thought was further reaffirmed when she pulled out a small notepad and a pen and asked them what they wanted to eat.

“Vivi! Meat!” Luffy said loudly, smacking his hands on the table and causing some of the other patrons to turn and look oddly at the group. Sanji kicked him under the table with a growling ‘ _be nice to the lady, asshole_ ,’ but was thoroughly ignored.

“Of course, Luffy.” She said, jotting something down and obviously used to Luffy’s obnoxiousness. “Anything for you, Nami?”

“Just the regular, babe.” Sanji’s mind screeched to a halt as he watched the blue haired girl lean down and place a firm kiss on Nami’s lips. Uh. He’d thought the Vivi they’d mentioned in the car was Nami’s sister or something, but apparently their relationship was way past sibling material. He felt slightly ashamed at himself for thinking that was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

“What about the rest of you?” She asked, straightening up and looking pointedly at Sanji, who realized his face was probably tomato red. Damn this pale skin.

“Double screwdriver, please.” He spoke up. He needed to get drunk, and fast.

Zoro fixed him from across the table with an undiscernable expression, like it was a fucking challenge or something. “Double whisky.”

Asshole wanted to play that game, did he? Oh, it was _on_.

Usopp seemed to pick up on the violent vibe that passed between them. He raised a hand to catch Vivi before she flitted away. “Uh, Vivi. C-could we get some chips and water for the table? Might, uh, be good to have some snacks.”

“Sure thing,” She said, jotting the order down on her pad and giving the long nose the sweetest smile. Sanji’s heart flipped with jealousy.   
  
When he turned back to finish his staring contest with the swamp monster, he found himself alone. Zoro was engaged in quiet conversation with Nami, and suddenly Sanji felt very awkward and out of place. Luffy was talking animatedly to Usopp about how to properly explode a potato with a battery (a conversation that he’d rather _not_ join in on) and for the second time that night he was questioning his decision. Why had he agreed to this? Of course it was an awful idea, he’d hated these guys all semester, and this was just reinforcing it.

He was thankful when Vivi returned with the drinks, so he could have something to occupy both his oral fixation and idly fidgeting fingers.

“Sanji,” Luffy said starkly, kicking him out of his anxiety infused spiral. “So you’re pretty smart right? The class report says you’ve got the highest grade.”

Sanji took a large gulp of the vodka concoction, savoring the burn of the alcohol. “Yeah, so?”

“So do you have like a dream or something?”

The question stuck in his mind. Not many people would ask him that, and look so eager for a response. And Luffy just seemed so damn honest, he couldn't stop himself from replying with the truth.

“Yeah. I’m gonna be a chef. Have my own restaurant.”

“Oh, cool! You can cook? You should cook for us sometime.”

“Sure,” He said, and his stomach did some excited flips. He’d not cooked for new people in a long time, it would be exhilarating to try out new things, match their individual palates, and stretch his skills. “Of course. Just tell me when.”

Luffy gave him another face-splitting smile and laughed.

Soon enough, his drink was empty and Vivi brought them another round. The conversation shifted away from him and he found himself catching a buzz and relaxing the more he drank, injecting small quips into the conversation where he could and drowning himself in alcohol when he couldn’t. He found the chips Usopp ordered earlier useful keeping his drunkenness at bay, though they could have used a few less minutes in the fryer... and maybe a tad more salt.

It wasn’t long after that that Sanji found himself drunk, laughing loudly with the rest of them at Luffy, who was standing on the table with Usopp and doing obscene things with the cutlery. Part of him wanted to tell them _stop it you idiots, there are ladies around_ but their antics left him immobilized by the spasms of his chest, cheeks aching from his smile and curling over the table, clutching his stomach. The beautiful Nami seemed to be quite enjoying herself as well, so perhaps they could continue without a scolding for the time being. He came up for a breath, wiping the tears from his eyes, and let his eyes shift over to the usually sullen moss. Now, however, the green-haired punk was sporting a huge smile, breaking the gloom of his permanent scowl.

He seemed to sense Sanji’s eyes and met them. smile replaced with a curious expression; like he’d just seen him for the first time and didn’t know who the fuck he was or why he was there. Sanji just smiled at him, because now, he was in no mood to pick a fight. He was surprised when the other man met him with a smirk, turning away to sip his drink with a quiet smile of his own.

He counted the glasses in front of the moss head. Five… six? He was on his seventh double whisky? But he didn’t even seem tipsy! Sanji looked at his own. He was about three deep and starting to feel it bad…. shit. Maybe he should just start ordering shots or something.

“Who wants to do shots?” He blurted. They all froze, looking at him for a moment.

“Yes!” Luffy shouted, hopping off the table.

“I guess I could do one,” Usopp conceded.

“Vivi babe! We need some shots!” Nami shouted to her girlfriend, who was cleaning glasses behind the bar. The girl perked up, and nodded.

The rest of the night was a blur.

They stumbled out hours later, his arm around Usopp’s shoulder and singing some old pirate shanty that they’d both known from their old men. Luffy bounded off ahead of them, apparently eager for new scenery, while Zoro filtered out behind them, quiet with his hands shoved in his pockets. Nami was staying to help Vivi close up.

They all got in the car, but this time Luffy took shotgun, and Sanji was stuck in the back with Zoro.

“Couldn’t keep up, could you shit cook?” Zoro quipped, seemingly unable to keep his stupid mouth shut.

Sanji grit his teeth, balling his fists. “The fuck does that mean? I matched you drink for drink, you green bastard,” He spat, daring him to go further.

Zoro didn’t miss a beat. “Bullshit. You were three behind the entire time.”

“Fuck you, shithead!” Sanji shouted, kicking the man’s knee.

“Bring it on, asshole!” Zoro said, shoving him back with more force than Sanji expected. It devolved into a stupid punching and kicking fight, neither of them able to get a good grip on the other in the small back seat of the car, both becoming more frustrated. The frustration made it turn from almost playful to violent and dirty, Zoro reaching for Sanji’s throat and the latter kicking for the former’s groin.

Luffy decided it was time to cut in when Sanji’s kick broke the driver’s side door handle, and Zoro’s coat cut a long slice in the leather seats. “Guys, hey!” He said, causing the fighting to pause momentarily. “You’re hurting Merry.”

“...Merry?” Sanji asked, confused. _Who..?_

“It’s the name of my car,” Usopp clarified.

“Oh, shit.” Sanji straightened up, fixing his jacket and taking stock of the damage. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just cool it until we get back.” He said, keeping his eyes on the road but glancing at them through the rearview. Zoro was glowering at the long nosed artist. “ I mean it, Zoro, chill the fuck out.”

“Yeah, sure.” Zoro muttered, extracting himself from where he’d been positioned to strangle the cook. He crossed his arms and scowled out the window, and Sanji frowned after him. The fight had actually been pretty fun, after all.

When they got back to campus, they stopped at Sanji’s dorm first. It seemed he lived the furthest away of them all. He sidled out, lighting a cigarette.

“Hey, thanks guys.” He swayed a bit, leaning into Luffy's open window. Maybe he’d had a little too much to drink. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

The grin Luffy gave him was blinding. “Yeah, awesome! We’ll bring you again, same time next week.”

“Okay,” Sanji agreed, nodding at him. He felt Zoro’s eyes through the window, but didn’t meet them.

He watched the car pull away, puffing on his cigarette. He relished the tingle of nicotine coursing through his veins.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sanji took a deep breath, rubbing a palm down his face in an attempt to calm the stress that threatened to overwhelm him. It wormed its way up his back, settling somewhere between his shoulderblades and latching itself into his spinal cord. Despite his calming breaths, it seemed like a knot he would never work out.

He was standing in line at TSC’s dining hall, the apple and granola bar clutched in his hands probably the only thing he’d be able to eat for the next 24 hours, and silently he scolded himself for having such poor habits. The old man would have kicked him to the next state if he knew his eggplant wasn’t taking care of himself. Not like he could really avoid it at this point however; since his drinking nights with Luffy _et al._ had become a regular occurrence, he hadn’t really had a chance to study as much as usual. Smiling sardonically to himself, he realized that not only had his outings with the group become more frequent, but his grades began to slip further from their desired point.

He grinned charmingly at the older lady who charged his student account for the food, then shoved the granola bar in the pocket of his backpack for later. The apple crunched loudly as he bit into it, traipsing casually through the door to the outside patio on his way to the library. His Business Law paper’s rough draft was due tomorrow, and there wasn’t a better time to get some serious work done. He hadn’t even started the damn thing.

“Oh, babe. Look, I promise it’s going to be alright. Do you want me to come over?”

A voice he recognized broke him out of his pensive thoughts, and he paused to look over his shoulder for that telltale flash of red that was Nami’s hair. He found her leaning forward on her elbow at one of the patio’s tables, a few notebooks splayed out in front of her while she listened intently to the phone in her ear. She was frowning deeply, an expression Sanji loathed on such a picture of beauty.

“Nami?” He said, hovering awkwardly as he sidled over to her side, but not too close to be awkward. They still really weren’t more than acquaintances, and Sanji would rather not cross any of her boundaries. She looked up in surprise, and waved him off nonchalantly. He understood it as more of a “hold on a second,” rather than a “go the fuck away please,” so he nodded and fiddled with the lighter in the front pocket of his jeans.

“Yeah honey. Okay. Look, if you need anything else you just call me ok? Okay. Love you too. ‘Bye.” She hung up the phone and placed it on top of one of her notebooks, covering her face with her palms for a moment and taking a deep breath. When she removed them, Sanji could see a slight wetness around her eyes. She hadn’t been crying, but she’d been close to it, and the conversation obviously affected her more than he’d first thought.

“Hey, Sanji. Sorry about that. What’s up?” She said, flashing him a small smile. His heart tightened at the fact she’d try to put on a brave face for him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked her, finally sliding into the adjacent seat. She seemed a bit uncomfortable with his question, looking away and biting her lip. He supposed she was debating whether to tell him the whole story, or brush it off as nothing.  

He desperately hoped she would tell him, he’d always been a sucker for a damsel in distress.

“Well, it’s Vivi,” She relented, running fingers through her gorgeous hair and tucking some strands behind her ear. “Her dad owns the bar, right? And their finances haven’t exactly been… perfect.”

Sanji nodded, encouraging her to continue. He knew enough about restaurants to know they were hard to keep afloat.

“So… well, they just fired their head chef, because believe me, he was a total asshole and deserved it.” She huffed, and Sanji made a mental note to ask for that story later. Firing a head chef was always a huge deal, the guy must have done something awful and from Nami’s tone, it must have been something really awful. “But he took the rest of the cooks with him,” She continued. Those bastards, they were probably all in the head chef’s pocket for illicit dealings. “They could lose the bar if they don’t find someone who can handle it soon. And they’re already in enough financial trouble without losing the income they make from food.”

“Wow… shit.” He commented, articulate as ever. But if the situation was as dire as she was leading him to believe, it was nothing short of a death sentence, regardless of how much patronage they could drum up. Even if they took out more loans, there was always the possibility that the benefactor would try to collect early, and kill the business anyway. He knew Nami was a finance major, and trusted her judgement. It was possible she’d also advised Vivi in such a manner.

“Vivi’s not taking it very well, if you can imagine,” Her bottom lip poked out slightly in a pout, and Sanji resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. “She’s got such a big heart… “

An idea niggled at the back of his mind. Sure, he was a bit bogged down with schoolwork, but he couldn’t help imagining himself behind the kitchen at Alabaster. He already had a work study job through the college, but the pay was mediocre at best, and wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as working at a restaurant had been. He did have some extra time, and as the thought became more solidified, he was actually becoming eager to spend all his free time cooking and managing other chefs, just like he’d done in high school. He wouldn’t even miss out on the group’s drinking nights, because he’d be working there.

“I could do it,” He said suddenly.

Her head snapped back to him from where her eyes had wandered to the patio’s plants. “What?”

“I mean, I could do it. I’ve got some extra time, and I was assistant head chef at my old man’s place before I had to quit for school, so I’ve got experience, too.” He was trying to be as sincere as possible, but she also hadn’t tasted his cooking yet. So she would probably be pretty skeptical.

“Sanji…” Oh yeah, she was skeptical. She didn’t quite believe his offer.

“No, I’m serious,” He begged earnestly. “Let me help.”

“Okay…” She agreed, letting out a long sigh. Deft hands flipped open one of her notebooks, jotted down her number and email quickly before ripping out the section. “If you can get me your resume and references, I’ll let her know.” She said matter-of-factly, holding out the piece of paper.

He took it, appraising the number before shoving it into his pocket next to the lighter. “You are a beauty, my dear,” He said, elated to have helped, but also because he now had her number. “I’ll have it to you within the hour. I hate to see either of my angels sad.”

She smiled at him, genuinely this time. “Thanks, Sanji.”

He bid her goodbye and made his way to the library, finishing his half-eaten apple on the way. Not much work was done the rest of the afternoon, and he spent far too much time on his resume rather than the paper that was actually due the next day. As he hit send on the email containing his application to Alabaster, he wondered when the hell he’d become so self sacrificing.

It was far past dusk when he made his way back to his dorm from the library. He was halfway through campus when his phone began to ring. He fussed with the bag slung around his shoulder until he extracted the wretched thing, frowning as he saw the caller id.  

“What do you want, shitty old geezer?” He barked bitterly into the receiver.

“Who told you you could work for anyone but me, brat?” Zeff snapped back, and immediately Sanji knew why the hell the old man had called. His application to Alabaster.

He decided to be truthful with his reply, eliding any of the smart comments he wanted to make. “I did, because they need the help. I’ll do more good there than I will back home.”

“You sure about that?” The geezer asked, obviously skeptical of his decision. Sanji wondered if his surrogate father knew there was a woman involved. He probably did; Zeff didn’t usually question his judgement otherwise.

“You don’t need me to run that damn restaurant old man,” He retorted sharply, digging at the real reason the man was upset. “Eventually I’ll need to learn on my own anyway.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Sanji had definitely hit home with his words, and he hoped it didn’t cost him dearly. You could never know with Zeff; he was logical at the best of times, angry and irrational at the worst.

“Good luck, eggplant,” Zeff growled, and Sanji knew he was out of the woods. For now. ”Come home soon,” The old man added, making the blonde’s heart clench. It wasn’t all about the fact that he was working for a new restaurant, but also that Zeff wouldn’t get to see him over the summer.

“Yeah, I will. Don’t die on me before I do,” He quipped, half-jokingly. The old man was getting up there in age, and it would be like him to die in a freak kitchen accident that Sanji could have prevented. He’d have to pick a weekend to trip down and spend time with the old bastard.

“Tch,” The old man scoffed at him, and hung up the phone.

* * *

The next few weeks flew by. Every class was preparing for finals, and Sanji was running around almost tearing his hair out trying to finish out all of his final papers and projects and presentations. It was like all of the professors had conspired to have the biggest projects due on the same day, even cross-department. He’d barely managed to finish his B-Law rough draft on time, nonetheless clean it up for the final submission, and study for the test. Really though, what class gives a final paper and a test for the same class, in the same week?

Not to mention he also had to make an appearance at Alabaster that night for an interview. He fingered the cigarette in his mouth as the anxiety bubbled in his stomach, made his hands shake. He was good and he knew it, but could he impress Vivi’s father enough to get hired on the spot? His old man taught him well, but was it good enough to forego studying for a test, to risk his GPA?

He strode into Alabaster that evening in his finest double breasted suit, looking all the part of a five-star chef. The manager was a man twice his height, with dark, curly hair and a thick black goatee. He gave off an air of elegance, and with Vivi hovering behind him, Sanji deduced that this was none other than Cobra himself.

They made their way upstairs to Cobra’s office. It was fairly small, just enough room for a desk and a few filing cabinets and trinkets. He eyed a small jade jackal figurine on the man’s desk while the manager took his seat behind it.   

“So,” Cobra folded his hands in front of himself, piercing gaze boring into Sanji’s brain. “Why do you want to work at Alabaster?”

The blonde took a deep breath to relax himself, feeling small in the modestly sized office before the towering man. He didn’t need an anxiety attack right now; what he needed was all the bravado and ego he could muster.

“I’d like to help,” Sanji answered honestly. “And I love cooking. I’m a league above your last chef. I held the assistant head chef position at the Baratie for four years, and spent time hiring the majority of the staff there.” Sanji paused, leaning forward, his hands clasped and elbows resting on his knees. “I know about your troubles. I’d like to turn them around.”

Cobra frowned for a moment, and Sanji wondered if he’d overstepped his bounds.

“Your resume is impressive,” The man said with a friendly chuckle, “The Baratie is a five star restaurant, you know, and to have a position like that at such a young age is nothing short of an achievement.” He smiled and his eyes crinkled around the edges, extending his hand. “If you’re ready, we’d love to have you come aboard.”

Sanji’s heart surged. He’d done it. Fuck yes. He met Cobra’s hand in a vigorous handshake. “Just point me to the kitchen.”

Over the next few weeks he had to balance interviewing new cooks himself and passing with satisfactory grades. He ended up hiring two more cooks: one shorter and blonde, but no one could match his speed with a knife. The other was big and lumbering, but he had an excellent nose for spices, and overall Sanji was satisfied. It would be a good summer. Mostly though, he was looking forward to catching up on all the sleep he’d missed while juggling his new employment with classes. He missed out on a lot of sleep; far more than he probably should have. But finally, it was over.

The group gathered at Alabaster for the last hurrah of the semester. Everyone was getting ready to leave for the summer, and Sanji wasn’t sure how much he would miss them. They were obnoxious and rude, and many days where he barely tolerated their presence. But, he remembered… they were the reason he was here, working towards his dream. And perhaps that’s what made it all worth it.

Sanji was busy cleaning glasses when Nami sidled up to the bar, clutching her beer in her hand. She’d warmed up to him lately, and he was pleased at the laid back atmosphere that had grown between them.

“So Sanji. Tell me about yourself,” She requested, fingers playing over the neck of her beer bottle.  

“I’m afraid, my sweet, there’s not much to tell that you don’t already know.” He mused. He had told her about Zeff a bit, and some of his time working at the restaurant through high school, but maybe that wasn’t as much as he’d felt it was.

“Bullshit! Come on, give me something. You’re always helping everyone out with their shit, but it seems like no one knows anything about yours.” Her eyes met his intently, and perhaps she was right.

Sanji sighed. “Only for you, my flower,” He conceded. “Ask and you shall receive.”

“Hmm….” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Are you seeing anyone? Handsome guy like you, I’d imagine someone would snap you up quick.”

“Not at the moment, no… I am delightfully single.” He raised an eyebrow at her line of questioning, but wasn’t able to keep the sardonic lilt out of his addendum.

“But you have been in a relationship, right?” She asked, pouting. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

Regardless, he became slightly wary of her motives. Was she trying to set him up with someone? “Of course,” He replied flippantly, like he was offended she’d even ask such a question. “It’s been a couple years since then though."

“What happened?” She leaned forward, resting her cute chin on her palm.

“We just… decided our lives were going in different directions. It wasn’t a bad breakup, but not something I really like to talk about, either.” He frowned again, focusing on a difficult spot on the glass he was cleaning rather than her concerned face.

She took the hint. “Ah, sorry. I don’t mean to be so nosy,” She said, but he doubted that were true. She seemed to be incessantly interested in his personal life since he’d offered to take the job at Alabaster, and it made him intensely curious to know why. But, he was a gentleman after all, and would wait until he’d gotten enough information so he could ask her with tact.

“So what’s up with you and Zoro then?“ She mused innocently, and he choked on the breath he’d just taken, almost dropping the glass in his hands as his eyes darted to the mosshead laughing at the table across the room. “Its like you guys can’t sit still around each other. Did something happen?”

“He’s just a shithead. What else is there?” He replied sharply, eyes snapping back to her own, rather unhappy about having to talk about the marimo. The guy had become more and more sour since the first night they hung out, trying his patience with every second spent in his presence. The fight they’d had that first night in the Merry hadn’t been their only one, and that wasn’t the last of the damage they’d done to the poor car, either. He didn’t know why Nami really cared… it was obvious that they hated each other.

Nami just gave a small thoughtful hum in response before sipping on her beer. “He’s a good guy, you know. You should cut him some slack sometimes. He’s just not the best at being ...friendly.”

“I noticed,” Sanji grumbled. She didn’t even know the half of it.

“Well, you know. Think about it.” She said, glancing over her shoulder at the group’s table, where Luffy was making ridiculous faces with knives stuck into his nostrils. Usopp was laughing so hard, he looked about to pop a vein in his forehead. “I’m gonna go take care of these dorks. Don’t work too hard, Sanji.”

“I could never, my lovely!” He called after her, smiling a dopey smile.

When she returned to the table, the smile dropped from his face. He realized he’d been cleaning the same glass over and over while they talked.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again anyone who comments and reviews. Y'all keep me going, forreal.


	3. Chapter 3

Long fingers gripped his favorite knife tightly as it flew through heads of lettuce, red onions, candied peaches, assorted greens. There was an order of four salads out to table 15, and he was already behind with the dinner rush bearing down on them. He set his knife down and flitted around the large form of Chaka, who was kneading a large batch of dough for his next few loaves of spiced bread. Sanji really enjoyed the recipe; it was a nice unleavened bread full of cinnamon and cardamom, with just the right level of flakiness to have a smooth, buttery taste and marry the flavors well. However, as the larger man had demonstrated in his interview, it took a while to make. A frown creased his face as he reached over the guy's shoulder for a stack of white bowls.  
  
"You need to pick it up if we're going to get this out on time," he growled, but instead of spitting back, Chaka just smiled to himself. He and Pell were quite used to Sanji's abrasive kitchen presence, and took no offense at the gruff command.  
  
"It's a double, so we'll have enough for the next couple hours at least. Without having to reheat anything," Chaka commented casually.   
  
“Ah,” Sanji paused and looked back at the man, patting him on the shoulder. "Good thinking." And it was, he was right. The bread would last but go fast enough so they wouldn't have to spend the time baking any more. He praised himself mentally for hiring such a good cook, simultaneously kicking for not coming up with it himself. He was the head chef here, after all.  
  
Bowls now in hand, he plated the salads and drizzled them with a sweet balsamic mixture he experimented with earlier in the summer, crumbling some walnuts and Gorgonzola over the top to keep the texture interesting. Satisfied, he nodded absently to himself and stacked the bowls he couldn't fit in his hands on his wrists, and glided towards the door.  
  
"How are those burgers for table eight coming Pell?" He asked on his way out.   
  
The blonde was facing away from the head chef, paying attention to his work at the grille. He held up a bloody hand, splaying all his fingers out while using the other to lay the meat patties on the grille. "5 minutes, no problem," he replied, his back still turned.  
  
"Perfect," Sanji quipped, calculating how much time he had for the side dished and fully slipping into the dining area.   
  
He artfully dodged around tables and patrons, finding table 15 with ease. He smiled dazzlingly at the ladies seated there, asked them if they needed anything else, and when dismissed he decided a cursory pass with the water pitcher was in order. He popped back into the kitchen for a moment and grabbed the pitcher, proceeding to flit around the dining area. He made sure every cup was filled and every table was happy, making a mental note to grab a ketchup bottle for table 2.  
  
He passed by the bar on his way to check on the potatoes in the fryer, giving Vivi a charming wink and a smile. He glanced at the patron she was serving, and came to a grinding halt; the water pitcher sloshing in his hand and everything he'd been about to do flying out the window.  
  
At the bar was a man, about his own height. Sanji had not expected to see him here, but now that he was, his brain skittered around the man’s figure. Through the forest green sweater he could derive a fine muscle definition that hadn’t been so pronounced before. It complimented his strong jaw and fluffy, seafoam hair that’d grown longer in his absence. He’d changed quite a bit since Sanji saw him last, and suddenly the blonde was struck with the revelation that Zoro was actually pretty attractive, in a rugged sort of way, and despite his reservations about the man’s personality. (Okay, the guy was a huge punk asshole douchebag, but that was beside the point.)   

But... What the fuck was he doing here? His trajectory was now permanently changed for the bar.   
  
The marimo's dark eyes found him as he approached. He’d have to ask him about that gnarly scar sometime. "Shit," the mosshead said, glowering into his pint. "I forgot you worked here."  
  
He ignored the comment, and instead put a hand gently on Vivi's shoulder to get her attention. "Vivi, my sweetest flower, table two needs some ketchup, if you don't mind. I'll take care of this riffraff."

She turned around and pouted at him, putting her hands on her hips. "Sanji, be nice. My dad'll be pissed if you guys break another table."

Sanji almost swooned at her adorable expression.  "My beautiful angel, I can assure you that was an _accident_ \--" Zoro snorted, and Sanji glared at him momentarily before turning his fluttery gaze back to Vivi "-- and I promise. Oh, and if you could please tell Pell to check on the fryer as well?"  
  
She bit her lip, big brown eyes flitting between both of their faces warily before sighing. She shook her head and wiped her hands on her apron as she retreated to going about her newly allocated duties.   
  
With Vivi away, the smile vanished from Sanji’s face. He replaced it with a grimace and folded his arms, glaring at Zoro from across the bar. "What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
Zoro gave him an unimpressed look, not even flinching at the glare and taking a deep drink from his pint. He smacked his lips and let out an appreciative sigh before placing the pint back on the bar surface and responding: "Drinking, the fuck's it look like?"  
  
Sanji ground his teeth together. _Oh yeah, hello shitlord, nice to see you again._ He needed a fucking cigarette. "I can see that, asshole,” He spat back, trying his best to keep his temper at bay. “I mean what are you doing in town; school doesn’t even start for a few weeks. You shouldn’t even be moved in."   
  
Zoro relaxed a bit, seemingly put off by the sudden change in tension, and shrugged. "Technically, I'm an athlete so I got to move in early." He took another deep swig of his lager.   
  
"Hm?” Zoro was an athlete? He didn’t remember the mosshead being proficient at anything in particular, especially hand-eye coordination, the clumsy bastard. But, maybe he’d heard something along those lines... “Oh yeah, that stick swinging club or whatever," Sanji said, waving his hand about to indicate the 'whatever'.   
  
It was Zoro's turn to grit his teeth. "Kendo," he corrected, finishing his beer.   
  
"Sure, that." He waved again, unable to keep the shit eating grin from creeping onto his face. He knew he was pissing the guy off, and fucking loved it. Absently, he picked up the empty glass and refilled it while he let the guy stew for a moment. He put it back on the bar in front of Zoro before he’d realized what he’d done, and kicked himself for doing something so considerate. Maybe it was for the best though; he hadn't lied to Vivi. He wasn't going to get in a fight right now.   
  
"So," he said in an effort to change the subject and get the sort of startled look off the marimo’s face. "Here all by yourself are you?"   
  
He grunted an affirmative, reverting back to his usual scowl and diving again into his beer. _What a caveman._ "Mhm,” he rumbled, “Just me to keep your lonely ass company for the next two weeks."  
  
That wiped the smirk right off Sanji's face, because of the intuition that Sanji was lonely without the group and had need of company. Of course it wasn’t far from the mark; actually, it was exactly the mark, and it pissed him off that this grass head was so perceptive. But he recovered quickly. "Worried about me, moss head? Well I never," He retorted, and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, sly smirk back in place.  
  
"Shut up, shit cook," Zoro snapped back, apparently unable to come up with something better.

Sanji decided he’d leave the idiot to his alcohol and drifted back towards the kitchen with a small ‘tch’.  

* * *

Sanji took time and skill distributing his tray full of food to table one and smiled at them, making sure they didn’t need anything else before he went on his way. It had been about an hour or so since his brief conversation with that grumpy punk, and absently he checked over his shoulder to see if the guy was still at the bar. He wasn’t, and Sanji denied the feeling of loneliness that crept upon him at the assumption that he'd left already. 

He’d assumed wrong, however, and was proven so when he was jerked back sharply by a tan hand grasping the sleeve of his finely tailored suit.

“Oi cook,” Zoro rumbled, tugging on the fabric again as Sanji turned around to face him. "When do you get off?"   
  
Zoro had his trademark leather jacket on now, and looked like he was headed towards the door. For a moment Sanji tongued the remark that Zoro should _let the fuck go of his jacket because it cost more than your degree shithead_ , but forewent it. For some reason, the marimo’s strange question was more pressing, so Sanji pursed his lips. "We start closing up around 10:30. Why?"  
  
"Just wondering if you'd like to come hang out," the other man shrugged, finally letting go. "My roommates and I will be up for a while. Better than drinking alone."  
  
Something struck Sanji as odd. Yes, grudgingly he could admit that hanging out with Zoro was probably better than drinking alone. Which, was his plan, anyway, and again Zoro had been much too perceptive. However, the other man looked pretty sheepish about the suggestion. Was Zoro trying to be … friendly? It made Sanji extremely uncomfortable.

He looked towards the kitchen for a moment before looking back. "...I, uh. Should get back to the kitchen," He mentioned with a thumb over his shoulder, trying to appear nonchalant.   
  
He pretended to not see Zoro’s frown deepen slightly, even if the difference was minute. "Yeah, whatever,” He said, turning towards the door and waving absently with the hand that wasn’t in his jacket pocket. “See ya."  
  
The blonde cook watched him stalk out the door, his earlier question sticking in his mind. For the rest of the night, Sanji worried at his bottom lip as his shift continued. Why... why did Zoro want to hang out with him? Up until now it just seemed like they knew the same people, and were only friends by transitive property. Maybe the walking plant-man was trying to be nice, but to Sanji of all people? It had to be fake. Yet, from what he knew of Zoro, he wasn't really one for false niceness. Maybe... maybe Nami had been right. She’d known him longer anyhow, but he seemed to snap at her almost as much as he snapped at Sanji (to the blonde’s chagrin, of course, no one should talk to ladies like that).   
  
After his shift ended and he’d cleaned the kitchen, put away all of the supplies and tallied them for the next day, he exited the door and took a deep breath of the late summer evening air. It was cooling down from the heat of the day, and he sighed as he unlatched his bike from the pillar outside the bar. He'd bought the nice sky-colored fixie for the summer, shortly after picking up the job at Alabaster. The bar was close to the college, but a little too far to walk, and so the bike made the trip easy enough without having to spring for a car on a student’s salary. The roads between were mostly flat, too, so it made for a nice ride. and was something Sanji found himself enjoying more often than not.    
  
He sat atop his seat and pulled out his phone, biting his lip again and not exactly sure about what he was doing. He scrolled down to the contact labelled _Dumbass Grass Head_ (a number he only had because he'd let Nami use his phone once) and opened a text. He stared at the blank screen.

Fuck it, he thought, What’s the worst that could happen? He typed out a quick and nonchalant “ _what dorm u in?_ ” before hitting send and tossing the phone back into his pocket before he changed his mind. He lit up his first cigarette in hours to calm his frazzled nerves, and went on his way.  
  
The night was beautiful and clear. He could smell the salt on the breeze from the not-so-distant ocean, breathing it in to feel the buzz stronger than the nicotine already coursing through his veins. He relished the way the seabreeze pushed his hair back gently and caressed his face. He let his eyes slide shut as he rode through the empty streets, gliding down the quiet straightaways and feeling content. This was the part he loved best: the serenity, the quietness of it all. So many people avoided coastal towns like this because of their sleepiness-- Sanji couldn’t fathom why.    
  
He was still a few minutes away from the school when a low buzz from his pocket broke him out of his thoughts. He balanced carefully through a turn with one hand while pulling his phone out with the other.

“ _east blue 307_ ” was the equally concise reply. It was odd how they both seemed to acknowledge the coming interaction as something incredibly awkward, but want to play it off as much as possible.  
  
He used a slender finger to type out a one-handed “ _be there in 5_ ”, before replacing the phone in his pocket.  
  
He chain smoked a second cigarette as he latched his bike up outside Zoro's dorm. Absently, he wondered if he could be part chimney, or if the universe could even possibly work that way.   
  
When he got to the door marked 307, he could hear a loud television playing from inside the room. He rapped on the door a few times with the back of his knuckles. There wasn't really a specific pattern, like normal friends would have so they wouldn't have ask who it was.  
  
"Who's'at?" Yelled a voice he didn't recognize, and he winced. Yep, that was super awkward. He made a mental note to come up with his own pattern next time, damn the implications that he and Zoro would then fall into the category of _normal friends_ or something.    
  
The door flew open and he came face to face with a guy he’d never seen before, who he presumed to own the voice he heard. The man was shirtless, slightly taller and broader than himself, his eyes narrow and betraying his east asian descent. There were sunglasses propped up on his head despite the late hour, and Sanji raised a curled eyebrow only slightly at the tattoo covering the left side of his face. He opened his arms wide when he saw Sanji.   
  
"It's the shitty cook!" He said with a wide grin. "Come on in bro."  
  
"Yeah... Hey." Sanji grimaced at Zoro's favorite term for him, but slid into the room  
  
The dorm room was bigger than Sanji's if only because Sanji had a single. This was more suite style with a central room and four doors radiating around which Sanji guessed were bedrooms. In the central room however, he spotted Zoro, lounging lazily on the beige leather couch, feet propped up on a mismatched coffee table and surrounded by two reclining chairs.   
  
"Took you long enough, cook." Zoro said, not even looking up as he sipped his beer and continued watching ESPN from the couch.   
  
Sanji winced internally. Zoro seemed unenthusiastic. Maybe the nonchalant tone of his texts was actually serious? Had he read too much into the invitation to hang out-- had Zoro really just been extending some sort of false courtesy? Sanji felt like he’d fucked up by coming over at all. _Fuck_.  
  
"Oi,” Zoro said, finally turning to face Sanji over his shoulder as the guy who opened the door drifted around to what Sanji assumed was his room. “Get the stick out of your ass and grab a drink and come sit down,” the grass head quipped, and it brought Sanji right back to the matter at hand.   
  
He made a face at the dumb moron, sticking out his tongue, but then drifted over to the mini-fridge that was plugged in beside the large TV. He plucked out a Stella for himself, and sat on the other end of the couch. There was a clunk as his dress shoes hit the coffee table, and for the second time in as many minutes, he felt awkward. He was still in his work clothes -- a pristine double breasted suit and tie -- while Zoro was in a simple white tank and gray sweats, and that other guy was shirtless. Maybe he should have gone back to his to change first?    
  
After a few minutes, ESPN rolled around to its second late-night rerun, and Zoro reached over to grab the remote and turn off the TV. He got up to grab himself another beer, and leaned into the room he'd seen the tattoo-faced guy enter. "Oi Johnny, Yosaku. Get in here. Let's play some cards."  
  
Sanji perked up a bit. He was damn good at cards. He used to play on late nights at the Baratie with Patty and Carne. Usually, that would lead to getting cussed out by the old man, but there were some times that his curmudgeonly stepfather would join in. Those nights were some of his fondest memories.

Johnny and Yosaku came over and sat down. Which was which, Sanji was unsure. They seemed to have the same build, and the one Sanji hadn’t seen before was a similar build to the first guy, but was bald and did not have a face tattoo.   
  
Tattoo-face tugged the recliner on Sanji’s left closer to the coffee table. "Please tell me we're not playing poker. I don't think my wallet can take it, bro." He said.   
  
Zoro smirked. "You ever play poker curly?" He asked the cook, and pulled a card pack from an end table drawer.  
  
"Maybe," Sanji replied, but the smirk growing on his face said otherwise.   
  
The green-haired man snorted. "Well, your poker face is shit."  
  
Sanji wasn’t going to back down, though. "Bring it on, marimo. I'll wipe the floor with you."  
  
Tattoo-face held up his hands. "I wouldn't push it, Sanji bro. Brochacho over here "-- he extended an arm towards Zoro -- " is really fuckin good. He takes me and Yosaku to the cleaners." Ah, so tattoo-face was Johnny.  
  
"I can't imagine why," Sanji muttered, having noted the relative intelligence of the people in the room. Zoro snorted next to him.   
  
“Let’s just play King’s Cup or something, man.” The bald one, Yosaku, suggested, completely oblivious to the dig at his own intelligence. “Johnny bro over here isn’t kidding.”

Zoro shrugged.  “Alright,” he conceded, and Sanji frowned. He’d really wanted to play poker. “Treasure cup or just a beer can?”

Johnny made a face of revulsion. “Totally beer can. Treasure cup can get nasty, bro.” Sanji nodded his head in agreement. There was no balancing of any sort of flavor when everyone had to pour their drink into a central cup, and it was really nothing short of disgusting.

“True,” Zoro admitted, and got up to grab a beer from the fridge.

Sanji decided it was time for him to get more comfortable. He removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the couch, proceeding to loosen his tie and unbutton the top few buttons of his crisp shirt. He rummaged through his jacket and placed a cigarette in his mouth, unlit, as Zoro was coming back into the room.

Moss-brain noticed the object of Sanji’s oral fixation right away. "Hey dumbass, you can't smoke in here,” He snapped at the cook, who sneered back.  
  
"I know that, shithead. I wasn't going to." Sanji snapped.

Zoro glared at him for a moment before sitting down and turning back to the others, placing the beer can in the center of the ring that Yosaku created with the cards. “Alright, we’ve all played before so you assholes know the rules. Ace is waterfall, two is you, three is me, four is whores, but I guess we’re just doing a gimme on that one because there’s no whores here.”

“Shithead, don’t talk about the ladies like that,” Sanji said, kicking him under the table.

After a short foot fight with the cook, Zoro continued. “Five is floor, six is dicks--”

“Floor? I’ve always played five is drive,” Sanji cut in.

Zoro, who’s eyebrow twitched comically at his constant interruptions, looked at the cook like he’d just put on a dress. “Drive? What the fuck is that, cook?”

“Oh, I know this one bro,” Johnny spoke up. “You act like you’re in a car, and it goes around the circle.”

Zoro’s eyes had never left Sanji’s face. His expression remained unchanged. “Well that’s fucking stupid. We’re doing floor, where you point at the damn floor.”

“Tch, you’re just worried you’d lose, directionless moron.” Sanji quipped, leaning back and taking a deep swig of his beer.

Zoro glared at him, again. “As I was saying. Six is dicks, seven is heaven, eight is date, nine is rhyme, ten is categories, Jack is Never Have I Ever, Queen is Questionmaster, King is Rulemaster. Everyone clear?”

“As mud,” The blonde said, but he was smiling his best shit-eating sarcastic grin around his unlit cigarette. He leaned forward, setting his beer on the coffee table and careful to avoid the cards. “Alright. Who goes first?”

“Johnny, you’re the youngest. You go.” Zoro decided, obviously done with the Sanji’s shit and ready to start the game.

“Ugh.” Johnny picked one from the ring and held it up. “Fuck bro. Three.” He shook his head as he chugged his beer, and placed the card under the tab of the unopened beer in the center.

“Alright,” Yosaku said, pulling a card. He didn’t say anything but put the card down, and immediately his hand shot up in the air. It was obvious that Sanji was the last one to catch on, and he swore under his breath as he chugged some of his own beer. He’d definitely not been staring at the marimo.

Zoro smirked to himself as he pulled the next card. “Two is you, swirly brow.”

“Trying to get me drunk, shitty moss?” Sanji frowned as he chugged more of the beer in front of him. He was almost out.

Sanji’s turn was next. He drew an eight of spades. “Eight is date. It’s you and me marimo,” He sassed, thinking that if Zoro had to drink as much as he did, he wouldn’t pull that stupid “you” trick every time.

But the moss head just smirked at him. “I got no problem drinking twice as much as you tonight, cook. You forget you’re a lightweight?”

 _Fuck._ Sanji ground his teeth. He had forgotten that Zoro had the tolerance of a black hole when it came to alcohol. But he couldn’t take it back now.

The turn was back to Johnny now. He pulled a six. “Six is dicks!” He exclaimed, and they all drank.

Yosaku took a drink out of turn, and then pulled his card. “Jack. Never have I ever,” Yosaku said, smiling and looking pointedly at Zoro. They all put up three fingers on one hand in preparation.

“Never have I ever…” Zoro met his smile with a glare at the other man spoke. ”...fucked a dude.”

“Asshole,” Zoro spat, putting down a finger.

For a moment, Sanji fought an internal conflict. He had options here. He could just, say, leave all his fingers up and act like nothing was wrong. Gin had transferred out sophomore year, and it was very possible that the three other people in the room had never even seen the guy, nonetheless known they’d been in some kind of relationship. Sanji flip flopped back and forth. The fact that Zoro had just admitted that he was… gay? bi? in front of Sanji should have garnered more thought, but at this point the blonde could already feel the alcohol warming its way through his muscles. Whatever, he decided. He’d think about it later.

Sanji shrugged, pulling down a finger.

“You too Sanji bro! Oh shit!” Johnny snorted suddenly, laughing so hard he fell off the ottoman.

He noticed Zoro looking at him curiously, his eyebrow cocked. “What?” Sanji asked, face deadpan. The hand not being used for the game fiddled absently with his pants pocket and he looked back to the other two. “Next question, shitlords.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't played King's Cup (also called Ring of Fire someplaces) it's pretty fun and stuff.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time Snaj is a dumbass, basically. And possibly next time too. Hello dork Swoonji.
> 
> Beep boop, maybe the next chapter will come before Sunday. Hope this is aight for now. 
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone :) Let me know about any errors if you see them. Trying to get myself away from adverbs... it's not really working, if you couldn't tell.

The throbbing was his first conscious feeling. He wasn't sure if it was pounding blood or some external noise, but it filled his brain and thrummed around like bubbles in a boiling pot. As the noise steadily grew louder, he groaned and rolled over, bloodshot and dry eyes cracking open to glare indignantly at the alarm clock sounding from his bedside table. He slapped the fuck out of the damn thing and rolled sloppily out of his glorified cot. Blinking back his bleary eyes, he stumbled over to the bathroom and cranked on the shower, biting down on a wave of nausea as the hot water peppered his chest. It was already pretty late in the morning, and as he washed and dressed and and left he prayed to any god that would listen that he'd be able to pass by the cafe, grab something to eat, and keep himself alive through his first class.

It was only the first day. He had to stop doing this. He was slipping.

He'd stayed too late at Zoro's again.

Yesterday, Sanji had a rough night at Alabaster. He'd spent the whole shift yelling at Chaka and training a new chef, Terracotta. The idea was that she would take over when Sanji moved on to bigger and better things; he was planning to start his own restaurant, after all. She was a lovely woman, but between Pell having the day off and Chaka not working nearly fast enough for Sanji's pace, he found himself juggling far more work than he'd originally planned and ended up chain smoking through the whole shift just to keep from murdering the entire restaurant. He wasn’t entirely surprised when his chain smoke train dropped him off at TSC’s East Blue, room 307.

Since the night a few weeks ago, he'd regularly find himself at Zoro's after his shifts, even the non-stressful ones, or the nights when the group would hang out at the bar the few days before school began. Sanji’d wondered initially if his admission the first night would change the way the kendo trio acted around him, but those worries were unfounded. It was something they'd never really discussed, just a thing that happened, and Sanji found himself comfortable. Hanging out with the surly marimo and stupid but loveable duo always seemed to be relaxing, because all they would do was drink and play cards and watch shitty movies.

Except for last night. Sanji stopped abruptly and almost dropped his coffee in the middle of Thousand Sunny’s esplanade as the hangover-blurred memories came rolling back through his brain. They'd been watching Reservoir Dogs, a cult-classic with an easy to remember drinking game.

_“Hey Johnny,” Yosaku said, slurring his words a bit and punching the other man in the shoulder. “Doesn’t Sanji bro kinda look like Mr. Pink?”_

_“Oh shit! He does!” Johnny started cackling; the loud obnoxious laugh of a drunk man._

_“Fuck you guys, I do not look like Steve-Fucking-Buscemi!” Sanji spat, brushing the bangs out of his face._

_“All of you drink, because baldy said a color.” Zoro said, already deep in his own whisky sour._

_After finishing off his Old Fashioned, Sanji stood up. “I’m going for a smoke.” He firmly slapped both Johnny and Yosaku in the head on his way around the couch. “And I look more like Leo-de-Fucking-Caprio.”_

_He was pretty toasty already and swayed a little on his way towards the balcony. Damn, maybe he had fixed that Old Fashioned a bit too strong. The last door before the balcony was cracked open slightly, and his alcohol-addled eyes wandered absently into the room beyond. They caught on the image of three distinct sheaths for asian-style swords. Katana, his brain supplied._

_“Holy shit,” He breathed, and without hesitation he pushed his way into the room._

_It was small, as many dorms were. Possibly smaller than Sanji’s own to make up for the large central room that many of the student body coveted when it came time for room signups. Frugally decorated, much of the furniture and textiles were simple and practical, the walls bare except for the exotic things he’d spotted from the main room._

_The katana were mounted on the wall with plain, metal brackets. It only accentuated their pristine elegance. The bottom sword was red, the sheath wrapped around the middle with a black weave, and accentuated in gold. The top sword was black as night, with a pink ‘Y’ design echoing down the center, from hilt to tip. But the one in the middle was the most fantastic of all; the sheath and hilt were a perfect, untouched white. It was brilliant and pure, and took the blonde’s breath away._

_How could someone have something like this? Their allure was irrevocable, and Sanji felt himself drawn to the power they displayed. He reached for the bottom sword, and could have sworn he heard it sing as his hands neared its grasp._

_He barely heard the "oi!" from the other room, and the thudding footsteps that followed._

_"Oi! I said what the hell are you doing?!" A large, tanned hand gripped his wrist and yanked it backwards hard. Sanji’s drunken self stumbled into his aggressor as his wrist was tugged next to the other’s shoulder, and far away from any of the swords. His eyes abruptly met with a severely scowling marimo face._

_The look in the marimo’s eyes was dangerous like the first night they’d really met. "Don't touch my fucking katana, you shitty fucking cook. Especially not that one." He growled, nodding to the red one that Sanji almost had his fingers on._

_The blonde cook violently tugged his mind away from the fact that he and Zoro were not only holding hands at this point, but also that he was leaning bodily on the swordsman’s chest to keep his drunk ass vertical. He swallowed, throat dry as an over cooked short rib as his brain caught up to the current conversation._

_"T-those are yours?" He asked, shakier than he would have liked._

_"Yeah. And they're fucking dangerous." Rumbled the response. He was no longer observing the guy’s unpleased glare, but instead had his face buried in the soft cotton shirt that clad Zoro’s shoulder as the embarrassment struck him. Really, he was entirely too drunk, and he kicked himself for being so damn awkward. He'd wandered into someone else's room and tried to touch their shit, nonetheless the stupid marimo’s priceless possessions. If that wasn't invasive and weird, he didn't know what was._

_“Uh-” he choked out, trying to keep himself from getting emotional. Damn you, damn you, he scolded himself._

_Blue eyes found their way back to Zoro's face and were relieved that had softened a little from the lethal glare he’d been doling out before, though he was still frowning. He was also still holding Sanji's wrist tightly, almost bruising, right up next to his ear. The cook could feel his heart thrumming away in his chest at the contact, every inch of skin under the thick, calloused fingers burning like he’d laid it on an open grille. He met the other man's eyes and --_   
  
_"Shit, sorry. Must've had too much already." Sanji said, ripping his hand away before things got more weird._   
  
_"Go have your goddamn smoke," Zoro retorted, all but shoving him out of the room by his shoulder._

He grasped the cheap paper cup of his coffee tightly and forced himself to begin walking forward, teeth gritting against teeth hard enough to be painful. That... didn't mean anything, right? Zoro was just a shithead that he played cards with sometimes, and would probably get over the intrusion into his personal space, writing it off as a “drunk cook” thing and nothing more. It wasn't a big deal that he got a little frazzled at being touched by another human being, either. He’d always been a horny drunk, and it had been a while anyway…

He shook his head vigorously, and then promptly decided it was a horrible idea as the headache assaulting his temples intensified at the sudden movement. It broke him out of his thoughts though, which was the goal, and he managed to walk to his first class without further mental incident.

Luffy bounded up to him as he was leaving the business building, first class of the day complete. The rubbery boy was bouncing, as always, with some kind of excitement.

"Oooooi! Sanjiiiii!" He was running and waving furiously, unruly black locks sticking out at odd angles from underneath his token hat. He stopped right in front of the blonde, face shining with a smile so bright Sanji had to squint. It was too damn early for this, and even though he’d finished his coffee and chugged a liter’s worth of water, he was still hungover as all hell.

"What, Luffy?" He asked shortly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Hey!” He placed his hands on his hips. “Nami and Vivi and everyone were gonna do a Lord of the Rings marathon this weekend! You can bring the food, right?"

For a moment, he glanced away from Luffy, lighting a cig to deal with every other stressor that pulled at his psyche. As he did this, the small, pudgy, and meek looking boy with curly brown hair hiding behind Luffy’s right elbow suddenly came into focus. Really though, he couldn't have been older than 15.

"Who the fuck is this?" spilled out of Sanji's mouth and past his newly lit cigarette before he could stop himself, or even answer Luffy's question.

"Oh!" The boy put his hand on the top of his hat and poked his chest out proudly. "This is Chopper! He's pre-med!"

Sanji raised a curled eyebrow, eyes shifting back to the boy as he removed the cig from his mouth and flicked off the ash. This kid’s eyes were way too wide, and made him fucking adorable."Pre-med? You mean you're a student? Aren't you a little young?"

"He's also a genius!” Luffy piped up, answering in Chopper’s stead. “Isn't it great!"

"Shut up asshole! Your compliments don't make me happy!" The boy shrieked, shoving Luffy away and blushing furiously. He seemed to realize his outburst and come back to himself, because his blush only darkened when he looked back at Sanji sheepishly. “My name’s Tony. Luffy only calls me ‘Chopper’ because we have Bio lab together, and I’m the one that does all the dissecting.”

Sanji felt a wide smile creep onto his face. This kid had been picked up by Luffy much like himself. He could only imagine how hard it would be to make friends here with such an age difference between himself and the rest of the student body. Luffy and company were probably just what this kid needed to get him out of his shell.

"Are you coming to the party this weekend, too, Tony?” He asked good-naturedly, leaning down slightly to be on the same level. “What kind of food do you like?"

"Oh!” Those big brown eyes flicked between Sanji’s face, to Luffy’s, and back. “You're the chef Luffy was telling me about! Uhm…. do you know how to make sweets?" Again, he was bashful at the question, obviously not used to being treated to the things he wanted.   
  
Sanji’s heart swelled and his smile widened. It was the least he could do. "Sweets? You got it," He reassured the boy, taking the opportunity to ruffle that curly hair affectionately.  
  
"Yes!! Sanji food! Awesome!" Luffy exclaimed, throwing his fisted hands straight up into the air. He turned to Chopper still vibrating with excitement as the school bell tower rang in the distance. "Come on Chop-chop, I'll take you to your next class! What is it again?"

“Uhm, Comparative Anatomy,” He replied hesitantly. “In the Ohara building.”

“Ikuzo!” Luffy yelled, causing several passing students to turn their heads.

Chopper leaned over to Sanji in a mock whisper. "Is he always like this?" He asked, and Sanji couldn’t help but chuckle deep in his chest and pat the boy on the back.   
  
"Yes. Yes he is."

* * *

After his classes let out for the day, Sanji decided to head over to the school’s gym. His hangover was still annoyingly present, and so he thought a good workout would rid him of it for good. Tonight was his night off, too. So maybe he'd be able to relax with a nice bottle of Cabernet and some pan seared quail... _Mm, yes_ , he thought. A touch of rosemary with some greens, and perhaps he'd make a bit of cranberry jam and vegetables for the side...  
  
He rubbed the fuzz on his chin thoughtfully as he entered the locker room and dropped his bag, stripping off his shirt and tossing it on the bench. No students were really stressed enough to exercise yet, since the school year had just begun and most classes were still more concerned at issuing syllabi than handing out actual work. So the place was nearly empty, and athletes usually trained in the mornings so there was no need to worry about them, either, the douchebags. Sanji changed quickly regardless, easily slipping on his gym shorts and not really in the mood for any sort of extended exhibitionism today.

He took his bag with him to find an empty workout room. TSC’s facilities were nice enough; they had a good collection of rooms that were multi purpose -- the floors lined with mats, and general equipment scattered around the room. Such rooms were usually used for classes or club gatherings, and there were one or two going on at present, but it didn't prevent him from getting one all to himself.

He slipped off his shoes and felt the fabric of the mat beneath his feet, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply before extending his body in a long, low stretch. After a few breaths, he changed to a different position, working his quads rather than his glutes this time. Yes, this was exactly what he needed.

After finishing his stretches he wrapped his hands tightly with a mix of gauze and tape for protection, even though he didn’t plan on using them, then did the same with his ankles. He traipsed over to the hanging bag in the corner of the room and went to work with an easy air. First some leg jabs to get himself worked up, maybe a couple roundhouses to stretch the tendons. Some rear kicks to work his quads some more, and then he'd move on to the combos.

For the combos he always threw in some things he'd learned from the old man. A little bit of capoeira here, some savate there. Shit, working like this felt good, really good. He didn't do it often enough. Briefly Sanji wondered to himself if he could just drop out of school and do this for the rest of his life. He'd love to beat the shit out of some punks in a ring who thought they knew what a good kick was. Sanji would show them was a good fucking kick was.

He moved to combining the kicks with handstands, flipping back and then forward before landing on his feet and delivering an especially vicious heel shot to the creaking weighted bag. For a moment he was worried it would come out of the ceiling from the way the chain creaked and swayed, but that was quickly forgotten when he landed, facing away from the bag. There was a lone figure standing in the door.  
  
Zoro leant casually against the jamb, shirtless and sweaty, dressed in what Sanji could only assume was standard _sword-swinging-dumbass_ attire. A ratty green piece of cloth was wrapped around his stomach, a black one around his head, a wooden sword propped on his shoulder, and a fucking stupid smirk plastered across his face. He looked almost feral, his eyes pinpoints from whatever activity he’d just relieved himself of.

”How's your head, lightweight?" He asked, and Sanji let himself show a deep and biting grimace. He’d hoped the moss brain would just forget about events the night previous, but that would have been too tactful for him, right?

"Tch. Fine," the blonde lied. "You just get out of bushwhacking or whatever the fuck?"

"Or whatever the fuck, yeah.” Zoro replied, pushing off the jamb and into the room, letting the door close behind him. Sanji eyed him suspiciously as the other man padded into the center of the room.

"What the fuck do you want, dude," he spat, desperately reigning in his eyeballs that were lingering too long on the scar that bisected the man's chest. He remembered hearing the story, but the thing was still gnarly as hell. And kind of hot, he had to admit… if you liked moronic lumberjacks.

Zoro scoffed at him, nodding towards the fragile punching bag. "Looks like you need some help, curlicue."

Sanji felt his rage flare at the photosynthetic asshole, and the blood pump vicious through his veins. "What? I'm not the one who needs a fucking stick to do my dirty work. This is _au naturale_ , shithead."

"Alright," he said, placing his practice sword on the wall, shrugging and cracking his neck. The tanned man raised his fists, and Sanji did the same. "Let's see it then."

They danced slowly around each other for a few minutes, neither daring to move first and give up some ground. However, Sanji was quickly getting bored, and longed for the strain he’d pushed himself to earlier. He decided to get the tempo going with a low leg sweep, which Zoro dodged easily.

"I'm not stupid, cook." The other man snapped.

"Coulda fooled me," he retorted, and smirked as Zoro answered with a quick jab and hook. Sanji noticed he hooked with his left, which was interesting; he was most likely left handed, and that was a good fact to know in a fight. The cook bent easily out of the way of both, stupid grin still plastered on his face as he watched Zoro realize this wasn't going to be easy.

"Come on you big lug, can't go any faster?" He goaded, dodging a few more punches and countering with a kick to the man's kidney. Zoro couldn't suppress a low 'oof' at the impact, and grit his teeth in determination, eyes locking on to Sanji as the slimmer man danced away on the balls of his powerful feet.

"I'm gonna wipe that fucking grin off your face," he growled, poorly resisting the smirk growing on his own.

Sanji's eyes widened as Zoro came at him anew, much faster and more focused than he'd ever seen the other man. He managed to dodge the first salvo -- barely -- until a solid fist connected with his stomach. He was knocked off balance immediately, not expecting that sheer amount force behind it, but tried to salvage his failure to block by taking the marimo down with him.

He managed to wedge his foot in the way when Zoro took a step forward, and let out a 'hah!' As he hooked his other around the man's hip and slammed his shoulders into the floor.

"Fuck!" Zoro cursed, now on his back with Sanji sitting firmly on his hips, powerful thighs and calves locking his body into place. As a last resort he flailed his arms as his assailant trying to get more punches in, but Sanji caught his hands easily in his superior position and pressed them firmly to the mat above Zoro's head.

Sanji was smiling the biggest, shit eating grin he'd ever smiled as he watched Zoro's mouth form a hard line of annoyance. Both chests were still heaving from the effort of the fight, and Sanji laughed a bit through his labored breaths. He found it rather odd, however… Zoro made no immediate move to get up, so he felt no immediate need to get off, and so they didn’t move. Their eyes locked together, and Sanji licked his lips nervously as he stared into the dark depths.  

"So where'd you uh, get that thing, anyway," he said quietly, eyes flicking and head nodding to the scar on Zoro's left eye.

"Same guy," Zoro said, managing to shrug even though his wrists were still in Sanji's palms. Sanji noticed he wasn't even resisting the grip anymore.

"Fucking really? Is he trying to leave you in pieces?" Sanji laughed quietly into the space between them. Huh, their noses were almost touching now. He didn’t think they’d been so close before.

"Heh. Maybe," Zoro replied smirking, white teeth glittering, and Sanji could almost feel the vibration in the other man's chest. Smell his skin and sweat, the slight trace of alcohol on his breath. The blonde let his eyes flick to the other man’s chapped, thin lips.

But of course, the spell had to be broken. Someone was running down the hallway outside, shouting.

"Oi! Zoro bro! You in here?" Sanji looked up at the door, recognizing Johnny’s voice.

Underneath him Zoro's whole body flexed at once, and Sanji was the opposite of prepared as thick ropes of muscle sent him sprawling on his back across the mat on the other side of the room. He coughed and choked, fully winded and holy shit that hurt like a fucking bitch.  
  
He sat up, propping himself up by the elbows and still coughing and wheezing as he tried to get air back into his lungs. He frowned at the stupid marimo's sly grin.

"Don't let your guard down, shitty cook," the swordsman quipped as Johnny poked his tattooed face into the door of the room.

"Hey! Oh shit--" he halted, seeing Sanji in a state on the floor, and clicked his tongue while admonishing the cook. "Sanji bro, looks like you got your ass kicked man. Better luck next time right?" He laughed, and Zoro just smirked.

"Asshole," Sanji managed to croak out between coughs.

Johnny looked back at the moss head, leaning on the door. "Hey, Zoro. Waipa and the guys wanna go out tonight, you down?"

Zoro's smirk vanished, and he turned from the cook to look at Johnny in the doorway. "Fucking hell, really? That douchebag?"

Johnny only shrugged. Sanji didn’t know Waipa, or what the deal was with him. Maybe he’d ask Zoro about it later, but right now it wasn’t really his place. It wasn’t like he and Zoro were a thing or anything, who would assume something like that?

The plant life sighed. "Fine.”

"You wanna come too bro?" Johnny turned to Sanji, who hesitated, but then shook his head, clearing his throat.

“Nah. I got a date with a bottle of wine and a meal cooked to perfection by yours truly." His voice was still a bit scratchy. He’d probably have to chug a few bottles of water to get it to clear up.

"Tch. Fruitcake," Zoro snorted, grabbing his practice sword off the wall and walking out the door.

Sanji stood up finally, smoothing out his shorts, and followed a few steps behind the other two as they proceeded down the hall. "At least I'm not a fucking sasquatch!" He called after them.

All he got in response was Zoro's middle finger.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was like pulling teeth, so I chopped off some parts. Short chapter is short. Hopefully I can make the next one longer and make up for it.

The weekend rolled around soon enough. Sanji made sure to skip his last class so he could go shopping with the girls and pick up plenty of things for their late night marathon.

He stepped carefully up the stairs to Nami and Vivi’s apartment, hands full of groceries for tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast, as they’d all probably be too drunk to go anywhere by the end of the night. His eyes were also desperately trying to look anywhere but the two perfect rear ends ascending the stairs in front of him, and he begged himself against a nosebleed or something equally as embarrassing; the blood in his body was already rushing around at odd angles. As soon as they were successfully indoors, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and began to busy himself with prep for Luffy’s favorite nachos. True to form, they involved lots of meat.

Speaking of the rubber boy, he, Zoro, and Chopper were busy listening to some outlandish story authored by none other than Usopp himself. They hadn’t been allowed to go to the store thanks to Luffy’s unending need to shove anything edible and within grasping range down his gullet, so there was no telling how long they’d been subjected to such torture. The couch in the living room was partially visible from the kitchen thanks to the small apartment’s open floor plan, and Sanji let himself smile a bit at Usopp’s wildly gesticulating arms, Chopper and Luffy’s enraptured faces, and the marimo’s rather displeased one. Sensing eyes on him, the mosshead’s gaze slowly shifted to meet Sanji’s own, causing Sanji to snicker when the other man expressed his displeasure with the current situation by rolling his eyes. Stupid smirk plastered on his face, Sanji turned back to the vegetables he’d been washing. They wouldn’t cut themselves, you know.

He preheated the oven and got to work, pulling out Nami’s wonderfully tasteful cutting board and a satisfactory (but nothing compared to his own) knife set. Nami was so wonderful in her frugal purchases. His hands flew through the onion, bell pepper, and tomato, leaving them perfectly diced. Momentarily pausing from the veggies, he turned up the heat on the pan that had been warming and dropped in the fresh beef, with plenty of diverse seasonings and spices. Perhaps he’d add a bit more cayenne; Luffy always seemed to like them better when his tongue was scorched, anyway…

Nami had drifted into the kitchen while the blonde chopped, taking a pleasant seat at the small island without Sanji’s knowledge. He’d been stirring the meat and preparing the chips for their trip into the oven when he finally noticed. Immediately he invested himself in making her one of his signature fruity concoctions; she ordered them at Alabaster almost exclusively. This one, however, was on the house.

" _Mademoiselle~_ " he gushed, pushing the margarita her way. She smiled sweetly at him, wrapping gentle, freckled fingers around the frosted glass and flashing those green eyes prettily at him from under her red fringe. She took a sip, and smiled sweetly. It made Sanji’s heart swell.

"So, how was your summer, Sanji? We didn't really get to talk about it earlier," She asked, pursing her lips around the straw.

“Every day was frosty and cold without your beautiful visage, dearest,” He quipped, and thought he might turn back to the meat before it started to burn. He could probably go ahead with dressing the chips and popping them in the oven.

"A little birdie tells me you've been hanging out with Zoro," she said.

Sanji’s thoughts ground to a halt as he turned on the balls of his feet to face her, trying his best to compose his face into something unassuming and curious. _Vivi must have said something,_ he thought. He'd let slip to her that he'd be heading over to the marimo's one night last week. He knew she and Zoro were close, but that shithead wouldn’t have just outright told her they’d been hanging out, because they were nothing more than mortal enemies. _…or, maybe he did say something?_  a little voice suggested, but he mentally waved that thought away.  

"Me? Hang out with that Neanderthal?" He scoffed at her implication, the lie rolling off his tongue much too easily. He turned around with a platter full of hor'dourves he’d prepared while waiting for the oven to heat and placed it in front of her. "My dearest, someone has been lying to you. That stinky mosshead is not worth an ounce of my time."

He couldn't determine what her coy little smile meant, but he thought it was wonderful anyway, smirking at him as she stirred her drink with her straw. His eyes drifted slightly to the right of her face, where he could see the marimo himself glaring daggers into the kitchen from the couch in the other room.

His stomach flipped, and dropped onto the floor, flailing like a fish about to be gutted.

Nami, entirely oblivious to the exchange between the two men, sighed in defeat. "Whatever you say, Sanji," she relented, and Sanji’s eyes flipped back to watch her pop a jalapeño popper into her mouth. It seemed that Sanji had schooled his face well enough to satisfy her unforgiving scrutiny.

Blue eyes followed her as she drifted out of the kitchen, and Sanji’s teeth began to worry at his bottom lip as he turned back around to finish his preparation, adamant about not meeting the angry glare still pointed in his direction. _Fuck._ Zoro had fucking heard him say that; Zoro had heard him lie to Nami’s face. What if… what if Zoro actually enjoyed the time they spent hanging out? What if he _was_ the one who told Nami because he was happy about how well they’d been getting along? The mosshead had to know he'd just been... _kidding,_ right?

He frowned at his brain and its prompting as his hands worked independently to finish not only the nachos, but three other snack dishes in record time. What did his brain know anyway? The damn thing was always worried about everything. It was about time he chose to ignore it.

Artfully he stacked the trays full of food on his skilled arms, carrying them swiftly into the living room. Sanji delivered a firm kick to Luffy’s rear, clearing him off the coffee table, and Usopp jumped up to help clean off the rest of the papers and other junk that occupied the space. As he slipped the trays onto the table, he accidentally made eye contact with the asshat marimo, who returned that same uncomfortable intensity from earlier. The blonde welcomed the opportunity to escape by retreating to the kitchen for a drink as Luffy bounded towards the entertainment center.

A few seconds later he returned from the kitchen, and took a seat next to Vivi on the loveseat. He glanced at his mossy agressor, only to find the other man prompt in averting his eyes.

_Ugh. Idiot._

Everyone was finally seated, and Luffy threw both fists into the air. “Yeff!” He said from his seat on the floor in front of the coffee table, mouth full of food and one of the snack plates already cleared. He scooted himself to face the opposite direction, and stared for a moment at the disc player while tapping his chin.

“Usopp!” He exclaimed after a moment, peering closer at the thing and reaching behind himself for more food. “How muff miss fing wook?”

Usopp promptly covered his face with his palm, getting up from his chair to help the other boy. “Just let me do it. It won’t work if you get food all over the disk!”

“So is this a good movie?” Chopper asked innocently while Luffy and Usopp were getting the DVD set up. “My grandma never let me watch a lot of stuff like this...”

“I’m sure you’ll love it, Tony,” Nami said, ruffling his hair and smiling at him.

Sanji felt Zoro glowering at him, and realized what felt so out of place. Suddenly it was like that first night he'd hung out with the group; Zoro staring at him like some fucking creep and acting like a total asshole.

It was annoying as fuck. It was like they'd never talked or hung out at all. He fucking hated it.

Halfway through the second movie he got up to pick up the now empty snack trays and make himself another drink. He dropped the trays into one side of the sink, making a mental note to wash them later, or perhaps in the morning if he’d had too much, and set about making himself a vodka cranberry. Thudding footsteps a few moments later told him that the marimo had joined him in the kitchen, probably needing another beer. Seriously though, he didn’t have to stomp around like an elephant.  

"Dumbass," Sanji greeted the man behind the open refrigerator door, squeezing limes into his glass.

"Asshole," The marimo replied, letting the fridge door close and popping his beer open with his forearm.

Sanji felt the burning stare on his back, and became uncomfortable. Instead of retreating into the living room, the mosshead was just standing in front of the fridge like an idiot, sipping his beer and watching Sanji finish his drink.

"What the hell do you want?" Sanji snapped at him over his shoulder, just about done with whatever this shithead was trying to pull.

"Just trying to figure out what the hell your problem is,"

"What are you, my mother? I don't have to fucking explain myself to you." He did actually, maybe. Just not right now. _Shut up, brain._

"Yeah, you do." Zoro parroted Sanji’s thoughts, voice dropping to a quiet grumble. He took a step forward into Sanji's space, grabbed his shirt collar and shoved him into the countertop.

"Hey, fucker --!" He hissed, aware of the half-made drink behind him and the beveled granite digging into his hip. He hadn't expected the mosshead to resort to violence, but honestly by this point he should have known better. His eyes flicked to their friends in the other room. He could see Usopp’s back from where he was leaning forward in his chair; if the long nosed artist reclined, they’d be busted. Nami would hate a fistfight in her kitchen.

"Stay quiet and they won't hear anything," Zoro growled, teeth inches from Sanji's nose. He tried not to think about how close Zoro’s face was to his own, and glared right back at him.

"So what's your deal, shitty cook? Is your pride so important that you can’t even admit we hang out?"

“That shitty moss has finally grown into your skull, hasn’t it,” Sanji snarled, hands clasped tightly around the other man’s wrist as he tried to wriggle away. The grip on his shirt was a vice, the man in front of him solid steel, and he couldn't get out aside from kicking the shithead across the room. “Fuck _off_ already!” He hissed in a loud whisper, trying to keep his temper in check.

Zoro’s snarl widened, and the blonde watched gray eyes flick down to his lips for a moment, then back up to his eyes. _Oh,_ he thought, suddenly on the same page. Zoro was actually into this, too, if that wasn’t the most obvious indicator in the world. Arousal shot like electricity through his body and he stilled out of something entirely other than fear.

"Don’t fuck with me, cook,” Zoro rumbled, danger evident in his tone. Sanji could smell the alcohol and food on his breath. “I'm not a moron. You tried to fucking kiss me, when we fought."

“So?” What the fuck, he was out of breath. Also he’d just admitted it. _Dumbass._

“So what the hell do you want?”

Fuck. Shit. _Fuck._ He didn’t really have an answer. Zoro was right there, and he could lean forward and just kiss the bastard senseless. He wrestled back and forth with himself between making out in Nami’s kitchen or retaining a sliver of his self worth and figuring out what it was he _did_ want.

To be honest, Sanji was shy as fuck. Relationships with guys were still pretty new to him on the _‘this is totally normal and I shouldn’t be worried about it’_ spectrum, so he wasn't as comfortable making moves as he'd be with say, a woman. Furthermore.. he just didn't know what it was about Zoro that drove him up the fucking wall. He’d never really bothered to give it much thought. He was good at reading others, giving everyone just what they wanted. But himself? Not in a million years.

He opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't decide or even begin to explain what was going on in his head, so nothing came out. He was totally at a loss for what to say.

After a few false starts he managed to say something, at least. “Uh-- I--”

"Hey Zoro! Sanji! You guys are gonna miss Helm’s De-eeep!"

Luffy bounded into the kitchen. He stopped, smile dropping into a confused frown, arms limp at his sides when he saw what appeared to be the older students at each other’s throats. Sanji quickly recognized Luffy’s almost-serious face. “Eh, you guys shouldn’t fight in here. Nami’s gonna be mad.”

Both Sanji and Zoro turned to glare at him.

“They’re _WHAT_?” came Nami’s voice from the other room.

Zoro dropped him back to the floor, wary of Nami’s ire. Sanji sneered at him after his shoes clacked on the tile, fixing his rumpled shirt and pushing his hair back into place.     

"Tch. Shithead," Zoro grumbled in reply to the blonde’s silent taunt, but Sanji was surprised at the sheer lack of venom in the bite. He bumped into Sanji's shoulder on his way out of the kitchen.

Sanji finished making his drink and let himself cool off, maybe adding a little extra vodka this time. The battle for Helm’s Deep was just starting when he got back to the living room, and the blonde mentally fist-pumped for taking just the right amount of time. However, Sanji found that Nami had moved from Chopper’s side to sit next to her girlfriend in the loveseat, taking his spot. Although jealous of the girls now wrapped up under a blanket, Nami was glaring between himself and Zoro (which they probably deserved) and so he wasn’t going to try and squeeze himself in. But now the only open seat was next to Chopper, and the blonde glowered at the prospect of having to sit closer to his least favorite algae infested humanoid, especially after an altercation as intense as that. He took the seat anyway in a gracious attempt at acting like nothing happened.

Sanji settled into his seat, relaxing and using alcohol to help him ignore the green-haired man on the other end of the couch, who was currently ignoring him. He was also quick to realize that despite Chopper’s intense interest in the upcoming battle, he was fading fast. Sanji allowed himself a small smile, observing the curly-haired boy’s head bob every few minutes as he dozed off. He was snoring softly before the end of the movie, missing the best part in Sanji’s opinion. His head had slumped over on Zoro’s lap, who really didn’t look at all phased by it. The blonde couldn’t help chuckling softly as the boy shifted in his sleep and stretched his legs across Sanji’s lap.

“He’s so adorable it’s not even human,” Sanji whispered, absently putting thought to words.

That garnered a snort from Zoro, who apprised the blonde sidelong before replying. “Right?”

Sanji observed the small smirk on the marimo’s face and filed it away, taking a sip of his drink and turning back to the movie. It was like their fight earlier had snapped some kind of tension, even though nothing had really been resolved.

After the movie ended, Nami shook Vivi awake and informed the boys they were going to bed.

“And no fighting, you two,” She admonished, dropping the blanket over Chopper on the way to their room.

“Yes, mom,” Zoro spat, rolling his eyes, and Sanji frowned at him. He would have shoved him off the couch for being so impolite, but restrained himself for Chopper’s sake.

“You guys down for the last one?” Usopp asked, and Luffy was bouncing and nodding his head so hard that Sanji thought he might break through the floor. It was getting pretty late but Sanji did want to finish it out, so he nodded in agreement as did Zoro.

Sanji had forgotten how much he loved these movies. The emotional rollercoaster they put him through, switching between one arduous journey to another. It was an epic, truly. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol making him feel a little light and giddy, or just the nostalgia of watching movies he loved, but he’d never felt more at home like he did at that moment.

Towards the end of the movie, Luffy was snoring just short of obnoxious in the opposite armchair, and Usopp looked like his eyes were barely staying awake, his eyes visibly bloodshot in some of the brighter scenes.   
  
The back of Sanji's hand was almost touching Zoro's under the blanket. He tried to ignore it, he tried to write it off as a fluke until he realized that Zoro was consciously moving his hand closer. He dare not look, because then the others still awake would get suspicious. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Zoro's head was leaned against his other hand, elbow resting on the couch’s armrest. His eyes were straight ahead, watching the movie, still wide awake.   
  
Did he even want this? Did he really? Because his heart was thudding in his ears as the backs of Zoro's calloused fingers began to brush themselves over the small knife scars that lay claim to Sanji's knuckles. Zoro was making his intention clear, but giving Sanji a way out if he wanted. Sanji could pull his hand away at any moment and it would be end of discussion. He knew Zoro wasn’t some douche who would press him for more.

But he didn't move his hand.   
  
Oh shit. Oh shit he wanted this. He really did.   
  
Slowly, deliberately, he laced his fingers into the other man's, and heard Zoro take a deep breath in, and let it out. Their grip was so tight it could bruise, thumbs stroking each other's palms like it was the only skin of the other they'd ever get to touch.   
  
Sanji watched as Gollum dropped into the depths of Mount Doom, and cursed a mental blue streak.  
  
What the fuck was happening to his life.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue here, a bit longer to make up for the short chapter previous. Also, upping the rating to explicit. ;) 
> 
> Thanks everyone for all your wonderful comments!

Sanji woke the next morning warm and comfortable. His fingers twitched in the soft, plush material that covered him; some kind of blanket. He shifted as he came to, rubbing his face against something more cottony, with much less give than a pillow. It was firm, but not uncomfortable. Smelled musky, mixed with something like aloe. Not distasteful, and in fact, he rather liked it. There was a twinge of something acidic, too; a taste that bit at the back of his tongue and reminded him of the Baratie’s industrial kitchen. It was something complex and interesting, and he continued to breathe in the scent, slowly waking up. But the thing he was snuggled up against began to rumble, and even his half-asleep brain recognized it as snoring. A very _particular_ kind of snoring.

His eyes snapped open, all sense of comfort shattered. With thinly veiled horror he realized he'd fallen asleep on the marimo's shoulder, and at some point in the night the swordsman had shifted so that his arm was around Sanji's shoulders. He'd have never guessed the gruff moss brain was a cuddler.

He remained still as his eyes darted around the room, taking stock of his mortification. Chopper had moved off the two of them to the other end of the couch, taking the third cushion to himself. He must have shifted at some point in the night, but according to the slow rise and fall of the kid’s chest, right now he was passed out. To his right, Luffy had draped himself over the armrests of the large recliner, and was snoring the same amount he’d been during the movie. Wasn’t likely he was waking up anytime soon without the smell of breakfast. That only left… Usopp.

 _Shit_. He could hear a low conversation coming from the kitchen, but from his current position he couldn’t see who it was. Probably Usopp and one of the girls. Oh no. _The girls_.

Was there a window he could throw himself out of? They were only on the second floor. He could just climb down, grab his bike, and never come back. Yeah, that sounded like a perfect idea. Maybe they could commit him to a psych ward afterwards.

He began the arduous process of extracting himself from the marimo’s death hold on his neck without waking him. He tugged his head through the loop created by the other man’s elbow, and frowned as it mussed his hair irreparably. Now he’d have to take a shower before running any errands today, and all that meant was that his hair was going to be frizzy as hell until it settled down tomorrow.

Zoro snorted in his sleep and rolled into himself more, missing the warmth that Sanji had been providing. Sanji frowned down at him, irritated that the man not only messed up his hair, but the niggling thought that he would have stayed and snuggled longer had there not been others around. He quickly shoved that back down with all the others, and turned to triage his hair with his reflection in the TV.

After a few minutes of preening he deemed it satisfactory, and took a deep breath. He chewed on his lip and stared absently at the mess of bottles on the coffee table and the sleeping boys in the room.

Perhaps he’d get started on breakfast.

He traipsed into the kitchen as casually as possible, and was immediately seduced by the wonderful smell of coffee. His sour mood was turned sweet when Vivi handed him a fresh cup. She must have heard him moving in the other room and gotten one ready. Ah, to be in the presence of such an angel.

He thanked her graciously and took a deep sip, turning to raise his glass at Usopp in greeting.

"Morning," Usopp replied, fingers knitting around his own mug as he balanced on a kitchen barstool.

Sanji smirked at him, raising an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you aren't dead, I thought you and Luffy killed a handle together."

Usopp grinned, and raised his mug mockingly. "I'll have you know, I have the tolerance of a man twice my size! I've never been hung over in my life!"

"Except for _every_ time we go on a pub crawl," Sanji added into his cup, going in for another swig of the life-giving substance. Vivi giggled into her hand to his right, and he turned to beam at her. She was a picture of beauty, his desert flower.

Usopp shrugged, ignoring Sanji’s doting. "I actually let Luffy drink most of it. His tolerance is _actually_ inhuman."

"True," Sanji agreed.

His mug was mostly empty now and he was already feeling much more lively. A moment of silence passed as Sanji set his mug down and stood to peer into the refrigerator, taking stock and trying to decide what to make. He tapped the scruff growing on his chin and sighed, going back to his coffee. Maybe he'd go out for a smoke before he started prep.

Vivi shifted over to stand next to him, leaning on the counter and drinking her coffee, innocent as could be.

"You seemed pretty comfortable this morning Sanji," she said casually, and all thoughts of breakfast were crushed between Sanji's grinding teeth. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the girls were conspiring against him.   
  
He saw Usopp sit up straighter in his peripheral vision. "Uhh, I should be… i-in the bathroom! Coffee went right through me, haha," The long nosed artist forced out, and escaped the kitchen with his mug.

Vivi just smiled sweetly in response to Sanji's indignant and sidelong glare. He restrained himself though, getting angry with a lady was uncalled for. He decided to return to his previous task -- the ingredients for breakfast -- and ignore the baiting question. He pulled out a carton of eggs, the bacon he’d picked up yesterday, some potatoes, plenty of vegetables to chop…

"Hey," she put a hand on his arm, as he was arranging his workspace, and though he thrilled at her soft touch, his muscles were strung tight.

"It's okay," She said softly. "You don't have to hide it, no one here is going to judge you."

He stopped fiddling with the ingredients and various pots and pans to lean an arm on the fridge, then his forehead into his forearm. Honesty would be the best way to stop them, it had to be.

“It would be nice, really, if everyone could just leave me alone and let me figure it out,” He said, almost a whisper through gritted teeth.

His eyes shifted over to her face, and he found her big doe eyes full of pity. Inwardly, he grimaced. It wasn't the reaction he wanted, but it would do. She patted his arm and smiled, leaving him to cook and taking a seat at the kitchen's island.

His hands flew through preparation, mind desperate for any kind of distraction from his current predicament and hands twitchy from either caffeine or anxiety. Probably both, really. In all it took him twenty minutes total to finish cooking and plating, nodding in approval at the kitchen island that was now overflowing with any kind of breakfast food they could ever want. 

"Vivi, my sweet," He said with a flourish and over-exaggerated bow, "Breakfast is served."

He then turned on the balls of his feet and stalked towards the apartment door, taking his jacket from the hook and slipping an unlit cigarette into his mouth. “I’ve got some errands to run this morning, so I’ll see you guys later.”

“You’re leaving?” Usopp had re-entered the room hearing the words  _breakfast_ and  _served_.

“Aren’t you going to eat something, Mr. Cook?” Vivi asked him, using her cutest epithet. He resisted the urge to swoon over her, and instead smiled saccharine.

“No time, much to do. I’ll grab something later. Mwah!” He blew her a kiss on the way out the door.

Oxford clad feet plodded down the stairs and twitching hands unlatched his bike. He pat himself on the back for his perfectly plotted escape.

* * *

For the next week or so, he and Zoro didn't really talk. Besides the obvious and awkward conversation he did _not_ want to have, school had begun to pick up as had business at Alabaster and so he found himself stumbling back to his single after a long shift, and passing out the moment his head hit the pillow. It was a cycle of wake, rinse, repeat.

It's not like he was actively trying to avoid the guy, he was just taking a different way to class. And spending most of his time in the kitchen rather than on the floor when the group would come by. And convincing himself that he just needed sleep so the trip over to room 307 wasn't necessary.

Okay, so maybe he _was_ actively trying to avoid the guy.

He had no idea why this whole thing was so difficult. It was only the fucking marimo for crying out loud, how the hell did everything get so weird and complicated? He needed to be less of a dumbass. He should have never held the guy’s hand.

So… maybe that was a wrong thought. He could admit he was a little bit attracted to Zoro. Okay, maybe more than a little bit. Okay, maybe Zoro was never far from his mind. Maybe it scared the shit out of him.

Should he just talk to Zoro? Ok, yeah, easier said than done. _Let's open that big dumb mouth of yours and spill all your insecurities,_ he thought. Oh yeah, great idea Sanji. Zoro would probably laugh him out of house and home. He'd have to transfer out, get new friends. Anything to avoid that kind of embarrassment.

He glanced at his phone for the umpteenth time that day. There were plenty of texts, some from Nami berating him for not eating earlier in the week (which she didn’t understand that sometimes, he just _wasn’t_ hungry), and some from Usopp and Luffy asking him to come over and play Mario Kart (which he’d strongly considered, but had honestly been too busy that day). But his thumb hovered over the unreads from _Dumbass Grass Head_. Over the whole week, there had only been two texts of ‘ _sup_ ’ and ‘ _?_ ’, both from two days ago. It was too good to really hope that the marimo understood why Sanji had been avoiding him like he was a flopped soufflé.

Sanji decided he didn't even understand the reason himself.

So, after he'd had an adequate amount of time to empty his brain of any traitorous thoughts, he chain smoked his way over to room 307.

Zoro opened the door, but seemed confused. "Hey," he said, straightening his back.

"Hey," Sanji replied simply, hands in his pockets, looking down the hallway instead of at the man in front of him.

"Uh," Zoro hesitated but then stepped back a bit, letting the door open wider. "It's just me tonight, Johnny and Yosaku are out at a frat thing or whatever."

Sanji shrugged. "Their loss," he said nonchalantly, and pushed his way past, careful to avoid the near chest-to-chest contact with the other man. He noted the ESPN on the TV, and several empty beer bottles on the makeshift coffee table. Of course, there was a case of beer in the fridge, and he pulled one out and plopped down on the sofa. Zoro was nothing if not a creature of habit.

Speaking of the mossbrain, he was still standing awkwardly by the door. "Uh. Ok?" He said, his tone indicating he was unsettled by Sanji’s sudden presence.

Sanji decided he didn’t give a shit. “Sit your ass down and have another beer, dumbass.”

Mossy padded over behind the couch and folded his arms. The glare he gave the blonde could have burned through the wall.

“You come over here to fight curly?” He growled in frustration.

Sanji almost spit out his beer, his head whipped so fast to look at the other man. “What? No, fuck no.”

Zoro grimaced, and Sanji caught that he wasn’t buying it. “So what’d you come here for then?”

The blonde leaned back on the couch, and spoke over the bottle pressed to his lips. “I came to hang out. Do I need a fucking reason?”

After a moment, Zoro grunted in what Sanji could only interpret as relenting. The man unfolded his arms and padded over to grab a beer out of the fridge, taking a seat on the far chair. He’d gotten the message that they were both avoiding the elephant in the room. Good.

“You wanna watch a movie or somethin’?” He asked after a minute, eyes locked on the gesticulating sportscasters on the screen. “I’ve seen this story about overinflated footballs like, twenty times now.”

Sanji snorted, smiling despite himself. “Sure, whaddaya got?”

"Hmm let's see…” Zoro got up and stretched his arms out, walking over to the large bookshelf full of DVDs next to the television. Sanji would be lying if he didn’t drink up the muscles exposed by the motion, and he had half a mind that Zoro did it on purpose. Regardless, his eyes were glued to the loosely hung sweatpants and the sculpted form of Zoro’s ass inside them while moss monster himself surveyed the movie collection.

“Seen it, seen it… hm. 13 Assassins? Haven't seen that one in a while."

"Hm?” Sanji quickly looked up, and silently wondered if he’d been fast enough to not be caught. “Sounds good to me.”

Zoro put the disc in and sat back down in his chair. Both men relaxed into their respective seats, letting the drama and bloodlust wash over them in waves. 

Or at least, that's what they should have been doing. In the first ten minutes, Zoro’s phone went off about four times. And then a few minutes later three more times in quick succession. Sanji ground his teeth, and contemplated going out for a cigarette. 

“That is so fucking annoying,” He spat, finally getting up once he realized his beer was empty.

"Yeah… sorry.” Zoro apologized, checking his phone and then turning of the vibration. “This guy won't stop blowing up my phone."

"That the same guy from the other week? What's up?" Sanji hid his interest with a swig of delicious alcohol. It wasn’t the first time they’d talked about conquests, but for some reason he felt a bit more invested this time.

"We… I dunno. Fucked around a little, freshman year,” Zoro started, shrugging and waving his hand around to convey the nebulousness of the term _fucked around_. “I was never really into it. He's a big partier, kind of an asshole, but the sex was nice. I've never really been able to get rid of him. And since we hung out the other night, he thinks it's cool to give me drunken booty calls."

Sanji wrinkled his nose. "Ugh."

"Right?” He took a swig of beer. “Tch. Like I said, kind of an asshole."

"I get that. Except mine was more of a druggie, rather than an asshole." Sanji commented casually. 

Zoro raised an eyebrow. His interest was piqued. This was actually the first time Sanji had talked about his own conquests, rather than just letting Johnny and Yosaku carry on for themselves. The blonde mentally kicked himself for opening the subject so flippantly.

“Like, weed ‘drugs’? Or like hardcore stuff?” Zoro queried. Sanji wondered if it was the same feigned disinterest that he himself had put forward earlier.   

Sanji shrugged. “I know there was some coke, maybe harder stuff. I tried to stay out of it. He was cool when we met, but kinda fell in with the wrong people. You know how it goes.”

He watched the earrings attached to the marimo’s ear wiggle and chime as he nodded in agreement. Everybody knew that one guy who couldn’t manage to stay away from the allure of illegal substances, harmless or not.

"How long were you guys together?" Zoro asked again after a few beats, obviously still curious. 

"Uh." This was starting to get uncomfortable. "Two years, off and on."  
  
Zoro's eyebrows shot up.  
  
"What?" Sanji didn’t see what was so surprising.   
  
"That's, uh. That's a pretty long time. You guys pretty serious then?"  
  
"What?” He waved away the notion. ”Oh god no. He was more of a, show up for a week or two and then disappear for a month kinda guy. I was always doing my own shit, so it didn't really matter."  
  
There was a moment of quiet contemplation before Zoro responded.  
  
"That really fucked you up, huh? Is that why you’re so damn flighty?"  
  
"Did I not just say that it wasn't a big deal?" Anger tore its way across Sanji's chest. He stood, and couldn't help the raise in volume as he pointed accusingly at Zoro. "And what the fuck do you mean _flighty_?”

Zoro was calm, and stayed in his chair. His eyes were on the screen, but he wasn’t watching. He spoke slowly, and gestured for punctuation with his bottle.

“I mean flighty because you could’ve kissed me what, three, four times? But every time we get close you run away. You get freaked out because of whatever that fucktard did to you.”

“Bullshit. I just fucking said it _wasn’t a big deal_. Twice. Are you fucking deaf?” Still yelling, still standing, probably red in the face. 

Zoro put his beer down on the table and turned bodily towards the cook, locking eyes as he spoke. "Yeah but cook, I fucking know you, remember?"

Sanji blinked, and the other man continued. "You lose it when there aren't people around, even if they're just there to irritate you. Some guy flaking off for weeks at a time doesn't seem like it would sit so lightly. And you held on to that little for a long ass time because he kept throwing you scraps. So don't tell me it didn't fucking _bother_ you."

Sanji sat back down, struck again by Zoro’s incredible and random bouts of perfect perception. He took a swig of beer, and mulled Zoro’s words in his head.

"Tch. You don't fucking know me, swamp monster,” He responded finally, leaning back into the couch. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze and watch the damn movie."

At some point, Zoro got up to get another beer. When he sat back down, he sat down on the couch instead of the chair, a comfortable distance away.

That comfortable distance shrunk slowly. Maybe a little here when someone got up to piss or grab a drink, maybe they were both subconsciously scooting towards the other. Either way, their feet were touching. Just resting next to each other. Then it was knees and Sanji's blood pressure rose a little higher. They were thigh to thigh and then before he knew it, Zoro's shoulder was pressed up tightly against his own, snuggled up against each other in the middle of the couch. 

"This movie's great, but it's not as good as some of the classic samurai films," Zoro started, no more than a low rumble in his ear. He could feel the man's breath. "We should watch those sometime."

"Sure. More dumbasses swinging swords is all I need," Sanji quipped, tilting his head slightly towards the other man.

Zoro chuckled, and turned his head slightly towards the blonde. "What's not to like?" He said.

Their eyes locked, and Sanji’s blood pressure skyrocketed. Their faces were centimeters from each other, and he was quickly enveloped by those dark, swarthy depths.

"Uh - Lots of things," he replied hesitantly, eyes flicking to the man's lips and back, trying to keep a lid on his nervousness as he licked his own. Zoro's words rang from earlier in his head, that he'd been running from this. Well he was going to prove that idiot wrong. He was going to meet this fucking challenge.

"Mm. We'll see." Zoro's lips were moving a fraction from the blonde's, almost talking against them. It didn't take much for the other man to close the gap in a soft kiss.

The marimo's lips were thin but soft, and moved slow and gentle against Sanji’s own. Adrenaline spiked across his chest as his brain tried to catch up with what his body was doing. He breathed in sharply through his nose, not breaking contact and letting the feeling carry him as his hands found their way to Zoro’s shirt. One of Zoro’s hands found its way onto Sanji’s lower back, and the other wove itself in the hair at the base of his neck. He felt the callouses on his skin there, stroking and tilting his head back as the kiss slowly morphed into some kind of open mouthed tongue probe, but it was nothing Sanji didn’t thoroughly enjoy. If he’d ever imagined kissing Zoro, it had been nothing like this.

After a moment Zoro pulled away for breath. When Sanji’s eyes fluttered open (when had they closed?) he noticed that the kiss had affected Zoro just as much as himself. The other man was breathing heavy, mouth hanging open slightly and eyes half lidded. His pupils were blown wide, and Sanji wanted nothing more than to attack him with everything he’d been holding back.

So he kicked the other man hard in the chest, causing him to tumble backwards and land on his back, head thudding against the couch’s far armrest.

"What the fuck?!" Zoro exclaimed, coughing from being winded.

Sanji crawled on top of him, straddling the broader man's waist and placing a hand by each of his ears.

"Because you suck, and I hate you," he said, leaning in.

"Mmf." Zoro's response was muffled by Sanji's mouth, turning into more of a moan than any sort of articulate noise.

Sanji had intended the kiss to be tender and sweet, as Zoro's had been earlier, but found himself drowning in Zoro's taste much quicker this time, breathing hotly into the mosshead’s mouth as his hands fisted in the threadbare cotton shirt that clung to the man's chest. He crushed their mouths together so hard neither could breathe properly. His tongue was a permanent fixture in Zoro's mouth, and he silently thanked his constant oral fixation for the skill in which he bested the other man's clumsy tongue.  
  
Zoro's hands had clasped themselves tightly around his knees, and were currently rubbing small circles into his hamstrings with his thumbs. The way Sanji's tongue was mapping Zoro's mouth, it seemed Zoro's hands were mapping Sanji's legs and hips -- fingertips with a small amount of pressure feeling the dips and curves. Sanji was vaguely aware of them cupping and squeezing his ass through his work slacks, touching the inside of his thighs--  
  
"Mmph!" Sanji broke the kiss and sat up, chest heaving, and ripped Zoro's hand away from his legs.  
  
"What? What's wrong? What did I--"  
  
"It's fine, shut up." Sanji leaned back over him, still panting. He could feel the heat on his face, he was probably flushed as hell. "Not a big deal... it's just been a while. So, if you touch, I'm gonna--"  
  
"Ah." Zoro said, cutting him off as he understood the train of thought. "Uh... same."  
  
“What?” He looked down to Zoro’s crotch, following and not following. It was a bad decision, because if there was any blood left in Sanji's brain at that point, it immediately rushed to his groin at the image of Zoro's raging boner, clearly visible through his baggy sweatpants. “Oh my _god_ ,” he moaned, leaning in close to Zoro's face, trying and failing to school away his lecherous intent. "Let’s fix that, hmm?"

Zoro smirked and moaned a curse into the subsequent bruising kiss.

His hands danced under Zoro's shirt and the other man hissed at Sanji's cold fingers. His abs were even more phenomenal than Sanji had imagined, or felt with his fists. They flexed under the blonde's deft fingertips, pausing to stroke a long line up the large scar that tore them in half. The skin was supple but firm, the muscles taut and finely hewn that Sanji felt he could spend hours or maybe even days exploring them. At some point he would, of course, but that wasn't for right now. He rubbed a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, relishing the way the moss's head rolled back, and his mouth dropped open in pleasure.

Satisfied (for now), his hands found their way to the hemline of the marimo's sweatpants. The kisses become more open, less insistent -- more breathing into each other's mouths than anything that could be considered a kiss as nimble fingers slipped underneath the elastic and flipped the waistband down.

Sanji took Zoro in his hands, feeling more confident at the low and breathy "fuck" that left the algae brain's mouth as the man leaned his head back over the armrest. He stroked Zoro slowly, noting how soft the skin was but also how the cock in his hands was hot as fire and rock hard. The blonde felt his own dick twitch in excitement at the thought of it, that Zoro was this hard for _him._  

Zoro must have felt the twitch, or maybe Sanji’s hand had sped up in his anticipation. Regardless, Zoro leaned forward, kissing the cook chaste and staccato across his lips while grabbing at the hemline of his shirt. He untucked the thing and pushed it off Sanji's shoulders, tossing it somewhere across the room. The blonde tried to concentrate on working the other man as calloused fingers played at his waistline, flat palms feeling his hips flex and bend. Slowly those fingers undid his belt, and then the few buttons restraining his own erection. With a sharp tug his pants were halfway down his thighs, and he moaned deep and guttural into Zoro's mouth as he was palmed through thin silk boxers. Zoro met him with a full on kiss this time -- it was long, and deep, and soon the world was again forgotten as it was Zoro, and only Zoro that commanded his attention.

A rolling white heat spread slowly along his pelvis as Zoro’s hand wrapped around his member and began to stroke. He was lost in the sensation, all his concentration on _don’t come, don’t come damnit, think of something else_ but then he opened his eyes to see Zoro’s unfocused gaze, one hand moving to wrap their hands together and stroke both cocks at once.

 _Oh fuck._ That was it. He couldn’t hold it back. He braced his hands on the armrest behind Zoro’s head, and let his hips thrust into Zoro’s hand, grinding into Zoro’s cock as hard as he fucking could, chasing that pleasure he desired so badly. He thought about Zoro’s hand stroking him, thought about the low grunts and curses the man beneath him was making as he came first, and opened his eyes to see the dark eyes and faint smirk and stupid, idiotic green hair.

His arms crumpled and he crashed his face into the other man’s shoulder, stifling the cry of bliss as his orgasm punched through, cock splurting hot come onto the mosshead's chiseled chest, hips twitching and thrusting through the intensity of it.

He realized Zoro was chuckling softly as he came down from his high, and shoving gently at his shoulder.

“Hey, shitty cook. Roll over, I’m getting up.”

He complied, his bones like jelly. He watched lazily as the other man stripped off his tank top and wiped them up, before plodding off to the bathroom to most likely clean up some more. Sanji himself was content laying on the couch, regardless of mess. It was like the past few days’ worth of exhaustion had hit him all at once, and he was fading fast. He did have the decency to tuck himself back into his pants, just in case he fell asleep on the spot, but anything more would be too much.

“Alright, get up asshole,” Zoro said playfully, padding back into the room and shutting off the TV. The movie wasn’t even half over… maybe they’d have to finish it another time.

“Y’wanna walk me home?” Sanji asked blearily.

“It’s 1 am. Hell if I’m gonna walk your ass all the way across campus right now,” He bit back. Sanji blinked and the other man sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You can just crash with me, if you want.”

“Those bozos won’t mind if I take the couch?” Sanji asked into the cushion.

“No, I mean-- With me. Uh, in my bed. If you want.”

Sanji sat up, albeit slowly, realizing that they were crossing some kind of boundary here. He bit his lip, contemplating.

“Um. Alright," He said. 

He followed Zoro into his room and shut the door behind them, watching as the man divested himself of his sweatpants, and plopped onto the bed in the nude. 

"You sleep naked?" He asked.

"Yeah, 's that a problem?" He watched as the other man wiggled under the emerald sheets. 

"Nah. I prefer boxers myself," He commented, slipping off his own slacks and crawling in next to the other man, silk boxers still in place. 

"Mmm." Zoro wrapped his arms around the cook, tugging him in close. Sanji's nose was assaulted with the smell he recognized as _Zoro_ , but it was much stronger now. 

He thought briefly as he drifted off that he might regret this in the morning. _Oh well,_ he thought. _This is damn comfortable._  

 


End file.
